


Primrose

by BurningRoseArts



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Chris Evans - Fandom, Ewan McGregor - Fandom, Mark Sheppard - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Abduction, Brother-Sister Relationships, Dom Tom Hiddleston, F/M, Gen, Jaguar Commercial Prompt, Slow Build, Villain Tom Hiddleston, british villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningRoseArts/pseuds/BurningRoseArts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Primrose Blake have to leave their home. Their uncle Malcolm Sheppard is willing to take them in and give them jobs. But they are unaware of their uncles dealings in the local crime syndicate. When Primrose catches the eye of Thomas Hawthorne, second in command of said crime syndicate, things begin spiraling out of control. Chris wants to protect his sister, but doesn't even trust his own uncle to help. Primrose isn't sure what to make of Thomas, but she's sure he's not the perfect gentleman he presents to be. Something in Thomas's domineering, confidence makes Primrose's heart beat faster, and she can't seem to decide if it's a good sensation or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tom Hiddleston - Thomas Hawthorne 6’2”, red-brown curly hair, 34 - British  
Benedict Cumberbatch - Benedict Clarke, 38, 6’, brown hair blue green eyes, deep voice _British  
Mark Sheppard - Malcolm Sheppard 50, 5’10”, low raspy voice - British  
Ewan McGregor - Ewan Lynch 5’10”, red hair, blue eyes 35 - Scottish  
Nicholas Hoult - Nick Harris 6’2” brown hair, blue eyes 30 - British  
Chris Evans - Chris Blake 34, 6’, reddish blond hair, blue eyes - Irish  
Primrose Blake 5’2”, 32, reddish black hair, green eyes - Irish

 

 

“Chris, where else can we go?” Primrose was trying her best to sound like she had an idea.

“Prim, we haven’t seen Uncle Malcolm in years,” Chris said. “It would be rude to just walk up to his door and ask for help.”

“He’s family, Chris,” Primrose started. “Mum and da always said we could go to anyone in the family if we need help. We need help. We have no money and no hope for a new job in this stupid town. We’re blacklisted, Chris. Even if he’s in no position to help us, maybe just leaving here and going to London will bring about something new. A new start.”

Chris sat on the kitchen counter and studied his sister. She had a point. They couldn’t stay here. There was nothing left for them. Shortly after their parents died, two years ago, they had both been fired from their jobs and kicked out of their family house by the bank. They managed to find a low rent, one bedroom apartment some slumlord was willing to rent out to them (no where else in town was willing to rent to them). They did their best to survive on the inheritance money their parents left them. But it was starting to run dry. 

“Alright,” Chris said. “You’re right. I think his number is in mum’s contact book. We can call and let him know we are going to be in London. Pack your stuff.”

~~~~~

Primrose and Chris took public transport from the airport to the art gallery their uncle had asked them to meet him at. Upon walking through the modern-styled glass doors, Primrose and Chris could see this was a huge and distinctly upscale gallery. 

“Hello, and welcome to Sheppard’s Gallery,” said a woman as the two siblings entered the gallery. She came out from behind the reception desk, her designer heels clicking sharply against the stone-tiled floor. “We are about to close for the evening, so is there anything I can help you find?” Her eyes were full of judgement and disinterest as she sized the two up. The woman was dressed in an immaculate Lela Rose half-sleeve sheath styled dress in plum with matching pumps. No necklace, but her silver earrings dangled down to her shoulders and her blonde hair was pinned up in a very precise french twist. Primrose knew what caused this woman to frown at the look of them. Chris in his worn and torn blue denims and blue flannel button-up, his trainers were patched together with duct tape. His face sporting a rough over-due five o’clock shadow and his normally blue eyes were darkened by too many sleepless nights. Primrose was wearing torn black leggings and a very worn blue sweater dress that was just a little too big on her rather thin frame. The flats on her feet were clearly in need of repair, or perhaps just thrown in the rubbish bin. Her long hair was wildly wind blown and the curls were sticking out in all directions. They looked like a couple of street urchins, each with their carry-on sized luggage and a backpack slung over their shoulders. 

“We are here to see Malcolm Sheppard,” Chris said.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked, coolly.

“Yes, we are his niece and nephew, Chris and Primrose Blake,” Primrose said. “We spoke to him yesterday. He asked us to meet him here.”

The woman clicked her tongue in disapproval, turned on her heel and strutted back to the desk. She grabbed up a small mobile device and spoke, in an annoyed tone. “Mr. Sheppard, a Primrose and Chris Blake are here to see you.”

There was a muffled response. The woman huffed as she put the device back on the desk. She started walking to the back of the gallery. “Follow me. I’ve been instructed to take you to his office.”

Chris and Primrose quickly followed the woman to the back wall of the gallery. She opened a door marked Employees Only and led them into a luxurious lounge. Rich blues and greens set a beautiful and rather royal atmosphere. There were plush chairs lining the walls with dark side tables. No ratty magazines or random decorative pieces scattered around the room. It was luxurious, but somewhat cold. There were doors in each of the walls, presumably leading into offices and a store room. The woman gestured for the siblings to sit in the lounge. She walked to the door at the furthest wall of the room and knocked.

“Enter,” came a gruff male voice from the other side of the door. The woman walked in and shut the door behind her.

Chris and Primrose exchanged a look of concern. Their uncle hadn’t told them he owned the gallery. This could either be a great opportunity, or a big mistake. 

The door opened again and the woman came out. She said nothing to the two siblings, instead just heading straight for the gallery door and left. Soon, four men in very smart, well tailored suits walked out into the lounge. 

“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very important meeting,” said one man. He was dressed in a fine, black three piece with a black shirt and tie. His barely greying dark hair was combed neatly to the side and his facial hair, though stubble, was neat. He didn’t wait for a response from the other three men, turning towards Chris and Primrose with a welcoming smile. “Chris! Primrose! I’m glad you found your way here, safely.”

The other three men stood silently to take in the two siblings. One man was tall and lean, with sharply angled cheekbones and a strong jaw. His red-brown, slightly curled hair was swept back, his face smooth and pale. He wore a perfectly cut navy blue suit with matching tie and pale blue button up shirt. His piercing blue eyes sparkled as he looked Chris and Primrose over. The second man was equally tall, a little less lean, dark hair and blue-green eyes. He wore a handsome black suit with a dark green button up shirt and a black tie. He was clearly less interested in the new arrivals. The third man was just slightly shorter than the other two, with lighter red hair, a well kept bit of facial hair and crystal blue eyes. He smiled when he saw the young woman glance at the three of them.

Their uncle noticed her reaction to the three gentlemen still standing off to the side, as well. “Gentlemen, this is my nephew, Christopher Blake, and my niece, Primrose Blake.” He gestured towards the men as he spoke to the siblings. “These are my business associated. Thomas Hawthorne,” (blue eyes, sharp cheekbones), “Benedict Clarke,” (dark hair, blue-green eyes), “and Ewan Lynch.” (blue eyes, facial hair).

“Pleasure to meet you,” Primrose said. She blushed when she noticed Thomas's lips twitch at the sound of her voice. People either love her Irish accent, or they hate it. The way he attempted not to smile told her he at least liked it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Thomas,” Malcolm said by way of dismissal. He stepped to the side and gestured for Primrose and Chris to enter his office. The three men nodded, curtly, and left.

~~~~~~

“So what brings the two of you to London?” Malcolm asked as he took his seat behind the desk, his friendly smile never wavering..

“We needed something new,” Chris said. “After the funeral, things just went from bad to worse. As soon as we got the inheritance money, we were both fired from our jobs. And nothing we did seemed to get us anywhere. About a month after the funeral, the bank foreclosed on the house without warning and kicked us out. We spent a few weeks trying to find a new place to live, but it was like we were blacklisted. No one would rent to us. No one would hire us. Hell, there were even shops that wouldn’t let us buy food.”

“How long did this last?” Malcolm asked. 

“It was still happening when we left,” Primrose said. “We had to use up a lot of the money to survive. So, we decided to find a new place to start over.”

Malcolm contemplated their situation. He knew why this had happened. But he had hoped the two siblings would have been left alone. His sister, their mother, had gone through a lot of painstaking work to keep Chris and Primrose out of the family business. 

“Where are you staying, in London?” Malcolm asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. 

“Um... we saw a hotel up the street a bit. We have enough money left to stay there for a bit,” Chris said.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll stay with me. What about jobs?”

“We don’t have anything yet, but we will start looking right away tomorrow morning,” Primrose said quickly.

“What did you do before?”

“I had been going to school, and working at an Inn at reception,” Primrose said.

“I worked at a garage, maintenance,” Chris said.

“What were you going to school for?” Malcolm asked.

“I have a Masters Degree in Fine Art," Primrose said, clearly proud of her accomplishment. 

“I think I can help you both with jobs, as well,” Malcolm said. “I recently lost one of my employees to unfortunate events. I’ve been looking for someone to fill the position of Gallery Coordinator. Vanessa thinks she’s been doing the job well, but she has no head for, well, anything but handling money.” Malcolm stood up, Chris and Primrose followed. He walked out the door, allowing the two of them to exit the room before turning off the light and locking the door. He led the two out of the lounge, into the gallery. He stopped briefly to instruct the woman, Vanessa, on closing up for the night, then took Chris and Primrose outside and across the street to a car park, where a beautiful, black Roll-Royce Dawn was sitting.


	2. Chapter 2

Primrose had started working for her uncle at the gallery two days later. He had given her the first day to get acquainted with the city, and to use his personal credit card to buy appropriate clothes for working at the gallery. She and Chris spent nearly 4 hours shopping at all the boutiques their uncle had suggested. Primrose found four beautiful dresses and two pant suits to wear at the gallery. Chris, who had also been hired by their uncle to work at the gallery, bought three nice suits, a couple pairs of dress trousers and a couple button up shirts. 

Vanessa was already in the gallery when Malcolm, Primrose and Chris came in. 

“Vanessa, you’ve met my niece, Primrose, and nephew, Christopher. They will be starting today. If they require any assistance, I expect you to help them,” Malcolm said. “Christopher will be working up front with you at reception and sales. Primrose is our new gallery coordinator.” Malcolm turned his attention to Chris. “Vanessa will walk you through your regular duties and show you the computer system and phones. Feel free to find me if you have any questions. We close for lunch at one for an hour.” He looked at Primrose. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your office and show you what your job will be.”

Chris spent the majority of the day watching and listening to Vanessa as she went about her routine. Everything was fairly straight forward. People meandered in and out throughout the day, window shopping or pricing their favorite pieces. Vanessa sold a rather nice, fair priced piece just before lunch. Chris managed to sell a rather large and expensive piece of art to a couple just before closing. He found he enjoyed this version of sales, the atmosphere of art sales was much different than regular retail or even car sales. And he was surprisingly good with it. 

Primrose found she, too, enjoyed her position. Gallery Coordinator meant she dealt directly with the artists, agents and other businesses. She found a natural ability to speak with the various people, learning how they communicated fast and using those skills to ensure the buying and selling of art and commissions. She was a natural. And she was very good at arranging the gallery floor. Chris helped a lot with arranging the floor, as well. Vanessa felt manual labor, even if it was arranging art displays, was beneath her employment station. But Primrose and Chris didn’t mind. They enjoyed creating new floor displays. And Malcolm seemed genuinely impressed with both their skills.

One evening, just before closing, Primrose was standing outside the gallery, looking in through the front windows when she noticed a sleek white Jaguar pull up to the curb. Thomas, the breathtaking gentleman she had barely met the first night, got out of the car and came to stand next to her. He took a moment to straighten and button his suit jacket before turning his gaze on Primrose. 

“Miss Blake, wasn’t it?” he asked in a velvety voice. 

“You may call me Primrose, Mr. Hawthorne.” She smiled sweetly, a soft blush gracing her cheeks. 

“Primrose. A lovely name.” He glanced at the gallery, then back at her. “Are you waiting for your uncle?”

A look of confusion flickered over her face for a moment before she realized why he would ask. “No, sir. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with my display. I’ve been playing with it all day, but something just feels off with it.” She gestured to the window display.

“Oh, so you work here, now?” Thomas asked. 

“Yes, sir. Gallery Coordinator. And Chris is working reception and sales with Vanessa.”

Thomas studied the young woman in front of him for a moment before turning his attention to the window display. “It seems rather monochromatic.”

“It’s supposed to. The featured artist only likes working in green hues and tones,” Primrose said. She shook her head, studying the display.

“Perhaps, letting it go and coming back to it tomorrow will help you figure something out,” Thomas said. 

“Perhaps, you are right. Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne,” Primrose said. She smiled at him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, shyly. “Are you here to see Malcolm?”

“Yes. I should get in before I’m late,” Thomas returned her smile. “And please, call me Tom.” He smoothly reached out and took Primrose’s right hand. Bringing it to his lips, he pressed them gently against her knuckles. Primrose blushed deeply. When he let her hand drop back to her side Thomas gave her a charming smile. “I am so glad I got to see you again, Primrose. I hope to see you again soon,” he whispered, before turning and walking into the gallery.

~~~~~~

Vanessa lead Thomas through the gallery, through the lounge and to Malcolm’s office. Thomas sat on the chair across the desk from Malcolm and waited for him to hang up his phone.

“Sorry about that,” Malcolm said after he put the phone reciever on the cradle. “Trying to help Christopher and Primrose find a flat of their own.” 

“Where are they staying now?” Thomas asked.

“With me, at my house.”

“And you hired them? Why are they in London?” 

“Their parents were killed a couple years back. They were in a rough spot in Ireland, so they called me and asked for help. What does my personal business matter to you and the organization?” Malcolm was trying his best to stay calm and collected. He prefered to keep his family business separate from the organization. And he knew Thomas was lethal with information. Thomas was young, but ruthless. He was being groomed to take over the empire of the organization, and had made it clear who he was and what he could do. Malcolm could admire the man. Malcolm’s existence within the organization was far enough on the fringes of the empire. He mostly just owned some of the property used by the organization for various purposes. His gallery was used for various meetings or gala’s when needed. Malcolm didn’t worry too much about what his place within the empire would be once Thomas took over.

“Just curious,” Thomas said cooly. He leaned back into the chair and watched Malcolm as he went through the papers on his desk. “New faces in town, the estranged family of a deep-seated member of the organization. Just checking in, you know how it is. You’ve been in this world long enough.”

“I have. Longer than most, and content in my position, unlike most. I also know how to successfully keep personal business separate from organization business.They work at the gallery, and like Vanessa, they know nothing of my dealings outside the gallery. They live with me, but it does not create a security concern.” Malcolm’s raspy voice was controlled and his words chosen carefully. He kept his eyes on Thomas for any sign of reaction. But there was nothing. Of course.

Thomas let the conversation go for the time being. But he wanted to ask more about Primrose. 

~~~~~

Malcolm and Thomas ended their meeting an hour later. The gallery had been closed, but Primrose was still in the gallery, trying to hang one last piece of art on one of the walls. She was standing on the top of a ladder but still couldn’t quite reach the top of the frame of the wall sized piece. 

“Primrose, what are you doing?” Malcolm asked, startled.

“Trying to fasten the top of this piece to the wall. It keeps sliding crooked because the frame is so unbalanced,” she explained. 

“Where is Chris? Why isn’t he helping you?” Malcolm was clearly annoyed.

“Vanessa’s car wouldn’t start and she insisted he take her home because she can’t possibly take a taxi, bus or the tube.” Primrose was not trying to hide her annoyance with the other woman. 

“Well come down from there, you’ll get hurt. It can wait until tomorrow,” Malcolm said. He held his hand up to her to help her down off the ladder. “Did you come to work with Chris this morning?” 

“Yes. It’s ok, uncle. I can take the bus back home.” Primrose knew her uncle had a dinner date with a friend tonight and didn’t want to make him late just to get a ride. She saw the look of apprehension on her uncle’s face, but neither had a chance to speak. 

“If the lady doesn’t mind, I’d be happy to take her home,” Thomas suddenly spoke up. Malcolm shot a warning look at Thomas, but Thomas wasn’t looking at him. Thomas was looking at Primrose, who was blushing, again. 

“Um, sure. That would be fine, thank you, Mr. Hawthorne,” she replied, retrieving her purse from behind the reception desk. 

“Tom, please,” Thomas said. He held his arm out for Primrose. When she wrapped her hand around his elbow, he smiled and led her out of the gallery to his Jaguar. He opened the passenger side door and held her hand steadily as she took a seat on the soft leather. Once she was situated, he closed the door and walked to the driver’s side. Before he could open his door, Malcolm yelled out to him. Thomas just nodded, opened the door and slid smoothly behind the wheel. 

“Now, before we get going, I was wondering, have you had dinner, yet?” Thomas asked.

“No, Chris and I were planning on going out tonight,” Primrose said quietly.

“Well, what luck, neither have I,” Thomas pushed the ignition button on the dash and eased the car into gear. He maneuvered the car quickly into the dying London traffic. 

“Oh, um, Malcolm’s house is that way,” Primrose said as she realized Thomas was going in the complete opposite direction.

“Yes, but the restaurant is this way.” He shifted again and quickly made their way further from the gallery.

“The restaurant?” Primrose was confused.

Thomas looked over at her and smiled. “Yes, I’m taking you to dinner. Unless you object to my company.”

“Oh, no,” Primrose said quickly. “It’s just... You don’t have to...” She trailed off and her blush deepened. “Thank you.”

Thomas turned his attention back to the road and maneuvered his Jag over the roads through the city. They traveled further into the city than Primrose had been. Twenty minutes later, Thomas pulled his Jag smoothly into the car park of an extravagant looking up-scale restaurant. Thomas got out of the car and hurried to the passenger’s side when he noticed Primrose starting to open the door. He pulled the door open and held his hand out for her to take. After buttoning his suit jacket, he lightly placed his hand at the small of her back and led her through the door of the restaurant. Hix City.

The hostess smiled cheerfully at Thomas as he walked in. The smile remained but became less genuine as she regarded Primrose. "Your table is waiting, Mr. Hawthorne. Follow me, please." The woman grabbed two menus and led the way through the dim restaurant to a table for two near the back of the room. Thomas pulled a chair out for Primrose and pushed it in once she sat down. He unbuttoned his jacket and took his own seat across from her. The hostess handed them each a menu, indicated the drink menu sitting on the table already, then took her leave. Thomas took the drink menu first and looked through it. 

"What do you like to drink?" He asked. 

"On the rare occasion I drink alcohol, I tend to prefer a nice semi sweet wine. A rosé, I guess."

Before Thomas could respond, the waitress appeared. "Good evening, Mr Hawthorne. Your usual?" 

"Not tonight, thank you, Sandy. Tonight I will be sharing a bottle of the rosé with my lady, please."

Sandy finally looked at Primrose. "Wonderful. I'll give you a few minutes to look at the menu and be right back with your wine." 

"How often do you eat here?" Primrose asked. 

Thomas smiled. "Often enough."

Primrose returned his smile before looking through the menu. There were no prices, which made her bite her lip. And some of the menu items were things she’d never heard of. She had no idea what to order and could feel her cheeks getting hot.

"What do you like to eat?" Thomas asked, noticing her reaction to the menu. 

"Chicken, pasta, beef, vegetables... I don't like spicy or bitter. I love dessert," Primrose smiled shyly and tried to avoid looking at Thomas. She couldn't quite put her finger on why, but for some reason, Thomas made her feel nervous and anxious. At present, with his forwardness in taking her to dinner mixed with how he looked at her, Primrose wasn’t sure eating was a good idea. She was afraid having food in her stomach would upset the butterflies nesting in there.

"Then I can promise you an amazing meal followed by an incredible dessert." Thomas folded his menu and set it to the side. He reached across the table, took the menu from Primrose’s hands and set it aside. Before she could object, the waitress was back with a bucket of ice, an unopened bottle of rosé and two wine glasses. She set everything up, skilfully opened the bottle and poured. 

"Thank you, Sandy. We are ready to order. I will have the lobster with the seasoned vegetables and my lady will have the steak with the cranberry glaze and vegetables, medium." Thomas handed the menus to the waitress as a form of dismissal. 

Primrose just looked at Thomas. She couldn't decide if him ordering for her was charming or annoying. Though she felt relief in not having to decide on some extravagant entree, she also felt a twinge of irritation at his presumptuous behavior. There was a dominance in his behavior that seemed to ruffle Primrose’s feathers, but barely enough to be a threat or bother. She bit her tongue again and reminded herself to relax.

"So how long did you live in Ireland?" Thomas asked. 

"All my life. My mum was born and raised in London, but met my da and moved to Ireland to be with him,” Primrose smiled sadly at the memories of her parents. Thomas sat silently observing her as she spoke. “Chris and I had a pretty good life there, until our parents died. Then things went sideways.”

Thomas picked up his wine glass and gestured for Primrose to do the same. “To new beginnings.” He smiled charmingly and clinked his glass against hers. 

“So, Mr. Hawthorne, what do you do?” Primrose asked after enjoying a few sips of her wine.

“I asked you to call me Tom,” he started. She smiled shyly and nodded. “I’m second in command for an organization that works in acquisitions, transportation and storage logistics, among other things.” The answer was deliberately vague, but gave just enough that she could come to her own conclusions. 

“Oh. Sounds... well, that’s impressive.” She didn’t know how to respond to the statement. He couldn’t be much older than Chris, yet he had achieved something that sounded fairly advanced. 

“What about you? Have you always wanted to be a gallery coordinator?”

Primrose took another sip of wine before answering. “Not really. But it’s better than my last job. And it at least puts some of my education to use. I have a master’s degree in fine art and an undergraduate in art history.”

The two continued their small talk until dinner arrived. After the waitress had placed the plates in front of Thomas and Primrose, she offered to refresh the wine, but Thomas dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Once she was gone, Thomas poured more wine into both their glasses. The two ate in silence for a few bites before Primrose spoke.

“This is amazing, thank you!” 

“I’m glad you are enjoying it. Thank you for joining me tonight.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kind comments and kudos!

After dessert, and once the wine was finished, Thomas settled the check, not allowing Primrose to contribute anything. When the waitress came back with his card and receipt, he stood, hand out to help Primrose to her feet. He gracefully guided her back to the front door, but stopped before leaving. A storm had picked up while they’d been eating. He looked at Primrose. She was wearing a short-sleeved, calf-length white dress. She looked out the door, noticed the weather was rather unfriendly and looked back at Thomas. Taking off his suit jacket, Thomas draped it over Primrose’s shoulders. He knelt on the floor and pulled the two inch heels off her feet. Keeping the heels in one hand, Thomas pushed open the door, grabbed Primrose’s wrist and pulled her out into the rain. He pulled her along after him as he quickly made his way to his Jaguar in the car park. He opened the passenger side door and Primrose slid in. He ran to the driver’s side and slid in behind the wheel. 

“Are you ok?” he asked as he started the car. 

“It’s just rain, I’m fine. Thank you for letting me use your jacket,” she answered. She took the jacket off and put it on the seat next to her. 

Thomas smiled. “What time do you get off work tomorrow?”

He had been driving for a few minutes, making his way back towards Malcolm’s townhouse.

Primrose glanced at Thomas. “Umm...” This man is hard to follow. What is he thinking? “Why?”

“Well, I was hoping to pick you up and take you out for dinner, drinks and dancing. A proper date,” Thomas explained matter-of-factly, a wolfish grin danced across his face.

“Um...” That caught her off guard. She just stared at the handsome man who was patiently waiting for an answer. “I get done at five tomorrow.” 

“Perfect. I will pick you up at five. Be sure to back a bag with a change of clothes and some dancing shoes. I’ll make the reservations for seven so we’ll have time to freshen up before hand.” 

Primrose looked at him in confusion. “Can’t you just pick me up from Malcolm’s place at six-thirty? Clearly, you know where his townhouse is. And that way I don’t have to pack a bag.”

“Well, this way I can get to know you better while we get ready,” Thomas said, that smile deepening. 

“Um...” Before she could think of something to say, Thomas had stopped along the curb in front of Malcolm’s townhouse. Thomas put the car in park and turned around in his seat.

“I will see you tomorrow, five o’clock at the gallery. Enjoy the rest of your night,” Thomas said. He leaned close, reached a hand out to Primrose’s face, brought it close and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.”

Shocked by the events of the evening and Thomas’ confidence and bold-nature, Primrose managed a weak “you too”, before opening the door. She stood took a few steps, turned back and smiled again at Thomas before shutting the door. He watched her take the steps up to the front door two at a time. She stood at the door before turning back to the Jaguar. She had left her shoes and purse in the car. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she quickly ran down the stairs and went back to the Jaguar.

Thomas had been watching her, to make sure she got in alright. He chuckled when she started coming back to his car. He reached across the passenger seat and opened the door. “What’s wrong?” he yelled over the sound of the rain thumping on the car.

“I left my purse and shoes,” Primrose said as she came to stand at the door entrance. “I’m sorry, but I am glad you are such the gentleman to see a girl gets safely inside before driving away. Thank you.”

Thomas picked up the purse and handed it over to Primrose. He grabbed her shoes and tucked them behind the console on the driver’s side. “Consider them collateral. In case you get cold feet about tomorrow. Now get inside before you catch cold.”

Primrose didn’t argue. At least she got her purse. Shoes weren’t anything to get bothered about. So she shut the passenger door again and went back to the townhouse. She fiddled with her keys in the door a moment before disappearing inside. 

~~~~~

Thomas drove away with a smile on his face. His mind was crystal clear and focused. He was a man who enjoyed the planning and pursuit as much as the end result. He didn’t get to be in his position without a certain attitude. He knows what he wants and has the means to get it. Right now, for some inexplicable reason, he wanted her. Primrose Blake. A total mystery. A beautiful, intriguing, intelligent woman. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to her. Until last week, he had been so wrapped up in his work and the organization that he had been on a very long dry spell. But it hadn’t bothered him. He didn’t even notice until she looked at him in the lounge that first night. She had enchanted him. “And now I’m going to make her mine,” he smiled to himself. 

~~~~~

Primrose walked into the foyer of the townhouse. All the lights were on, foyer, hallway, kitchen, dining room, den and living room. Primrose tossed her purse at the foot of the stairs, hoping she’d remember to take it up to her room when she went upstairs.

“Prim, that had better be you,” Chris shouted from the kitchen. Primrose looked at the clock on the wall. It was after nine. 

“Yeah, Chris,” she called. “It’s me. I’m sorry.”

Chris came out into the hallway, throwing a towel over his shoulder. “Where have you been?”

“Mr. Hawthorne offered to drive me home. He decided to stop for dinner before hand. Sorry. I didn’t think to send you a message. It was a weird night.”

“Mr. Hawthorne?” he asked. He studied Primrose a moment. “What was he doing at the gallery?”

“Meeting with Malcolm.” Primrose followed Chris into the kitchen. He was making himself his usual evening snack- chips, salsa and hummus. 

“Those men seem to meet with Malcolm a lot. What do you think they do?” Chris asked. 

“Tom said he works for an organization that works in acquisitions, transportation and storage logistics. I have no idea what that means. But apparently Tom is second in command, whatever that means. I get a very... unusual feeling from all those men, but him specifically.”

“Tom?” Chris asked. He gave his sister a grin. She blushed. “I know what you’re saying. That Mr. Lynch guy stuck around one night after his meeting with Malcolm. He asked if I wanted to head to the pub. Though I didn’t go, he seemed cool about it.”

The two took the snack to the living room and sat on the couch together. Chris sat first, putting the bowl of chips and salsa on the table. Primrose put the hummus on the table, snatched the TV remote and plopped down next to Chris, resting against his shoulder and chest as he put his arm along the top of the backrest. 

“Where did he take you for dinner?” 

“Hix City, I think it was called. I dunno, it was a really nice restaurant, amazing food. Even in this silly thing,” Primrose gestured to her dress, “I still felt out of place, underdressed. And Tom, he was... he ordered for me. And refused to let me pour my own wine.” She wiggled a bit against her brother. “Ok, I can not be comfortable in this stupid dress. I’ll be back. Find something to watch, will ya.”

Primrose headed up the stairs, taking her purse with her to her bedroom. She tossed her purse on her dresser and pulled her wet dress off. She dropped it in the hamper as she opened her dresser. She found her most comfy pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank top. She pulled her hair out of the french braid she’d been wearing and let it fall down past her shoulders. 

When she got back down to the living room, Chris started the movie he’d decided on. Primrose made herself comfortable next to her brother, again.

“So what’s bothering you, Prim?” Chris finally asked.

“He wants to take me out again tomorrow night,” she said.

“Tom? Wow. So what, you’re nervous?”

“Yeah. And, well... he’s very intense. Plus, he wants to pick me up at the gallery, take me back to his place and let me get ready there. He wants me to pack a bag with a change of clothes and dancing shoes.”

“What’s that about? He wants you to get ready at his place?”

“It’s kind of creepy, right? I mean, why can’t I just come back here and have him pick me up sometime before the dinner.” Primrose suddenly felt the urge to express all her thoughts on Thomas’s actions. “He ordered dinner for me. That kind of thing only happens in movies. And he’s just so... assertive. Imposing, almost. I’m not used to it. He insisted on opening the doors for me, always held my hand or put his hand on my back. He pulled out my chair, Chris.”

“Hey, I’ve been known to pull out the occasional chair and walk a lady to her door,” Chris said, a little defensively. “It’s called chivalry. Not all guys are assholes.”

“That’s not what this feels like, Chris,” Primrose said. “It feels less like a show of respect and honor and more like a sign of dominance and possession. I can’t explain why, but it’s the attitude in how he does these things. When you do it, your attitude may be chivalrous and gentlemanly, but when he does it, if feels more like I’m playing in some predator’s game.”

“Yeah, it does sound a little strange,” Chris shrugged. “If it bothers you, it bothers me. I’ll watch him the next time he comes into the gallery. Maybe I can get some information from Vanessa.”

“Thanks. I don’t know what game he’s playing at but I’m not sure I’m comfortable playing in it,” Primrose said. “Wait, Vanessa?” she asked suddenly, looking at her brother.

“Yeah, I couldn’t get her to shut up when I was taking her home tonight, and at some point she said she’d gone out to dinner with Mr. Hawthorne a few months back. She didn’t talk about the date, just that it happened.”

“Huh. Why was she telling you all this?”

Again Chris shrugged. “I think she was just trying to get my attention. ‘I dated so and so and he was a dime a dozen, but you are a real down to earth kind of guy and would be able to show a girl a good time.’” Chris’s terrible impersonation of Vanessa had Primrose laughing.

“Oh, man. She want’s you bad,” Primrose finally said. She cozied up to her brother and tried to watch the TV show Chris had put on. Primrose started rubbing her temples. She had been fighting off a headache all afternoon, and now the nervousness and anxiety of the evening’s events had made the ache more pronounced. 

“Getting one of your headaches?” Chris asked. He reached over and began rubbing the back of Primrose’s neck. 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Just need some sleep.” 

The two heard the front door unlock, open, close and lock again. “Hello, Uncle.” They both called.

“Hello, kids,” Malcolm said as he came into the living room. He took a seat on the wing-backed chair. “How was your evening?”

“Fine,” Chris said. He’d been home most of the night, after dropping Vanessa off at her flat. 

“Alright, I guess,” Primrose said, still rubbing circles around her temples. 

“How was dinner?” Malcolm asked.

“How did you know Mr. Hawthorne took me to dinner?” Primrose looked a little startled.

“He sent me a text, letting me know so I wouldn’t be worried.”

“Oh. Is that what you’d yelled at him when I got in his car?”

“Yes. I just wanted to make sure he would be a perfect gentleman with my dear niece.” Malcolm smiled at Primrose. She knew he held a special spot in his heart for her and her brother. They were his only niece and nephew. The only family he had left. He and their mother had a very special bond. Malcolm loved his sister, their mother, dearly. And Primrose had been told more times than she could count that she looked very similar to her mother. Same dark red, almost black hair, same deep green eyes. 

“Yeah, well he want’s to take me out again tomorrow night.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Thanks for the encouraging comments and kudos. This is a huge step for me, posting my stories for others to read. 
> 
>  
> 
> \-------------------------

The next morning, Primrose’s alarm went off. It was seven in the morning. A small sliver of light was cutting through her curtains. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to cut into her skull. She groaned in pain as she stretched across her bed. She’d spent the whole night in fitful sleep. The headache had not only continued but got increasingly worse throughout the night. She knew she was in no shape to go to work. She could barely open her eyes. She was fighting the urge to be sick with every movement she made and her mind felt numb from the pain. She grabbed for her phone on her nightstand and did her best to send a text to her brother. He was only in the other room, but she couldn’t leave the bed and was afraid if she tried yelling for him she might pass out. 

Full tension migraine. Help.

In a few moments Chris was doing his best to come into her room quietly. He sat on the side of the bed and began rubbing Primrose’s back and neck. “Where are your pills, Prim?”

“Medicine cabinet,” she whispered. 

Chris left the room and made his way to the bathroom they shared. Just before he got there he saw Malcolm coming down the hall.

“Where’s Primrose?” Malcolm asked. He had gotten used to their morning routine. Primrose was the first one to claim the bathroom in the mornings. Chris usually made them breakfast.

“She’s in her room. She’s got a bad tension migraine. I’m getting her meds.”

Malcolm made his way to Primrose’s room and found her on her bed, face buried in her covers.

“Prim,” he said quietly. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I can go in today, uncle. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Do you need Chris to stay with you?”

“No. Once I take my medicine I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Chris came back with her medicine bottle and a glass of water. She quickly took two pills from the bottle and swallowed them with water. Chris told Primrose to keep her phone close and to call if she needed anything. Malcolm reassured her that if she called Chris, he’d be able to answer his phone and leave work immediately. 

As Malcolm got in his car to leave for the gallery he pulled his phone from his pocket. Primrose had asked, before he left, for Thomas’ phone number so she could cancel their date tonight. Malcolm promised he’d let Thomas know. Malcolm sent a text message to Thomas.

Primrose asked me to let you know she is ill and will not be accompanying you tonight.

Thomas responded almost immediately.

What happened?

Malcolm waited to respond until he was at his desk in his office at the gallery.

She’ll be fine. She just needs rest. Tension migraine. Apparently it’s something that happens from time to time.

Thomas didn’t respond. Malcolm didn’t think anything of it for the rest of the day.

Chris and Vanessa went about their regular routines and Malcolm spent his time in the office making calls and returning emails.

~~~~~ 

Around noon, Primrose finally managed to leave her room and go to the kitchen. She quietly, and gingerly made herself a cup of tea and went into the living room. She needed a distraction, so she turned on the TV and started a movie..

She was curled up on the couch, tea on the table, blanket pulled over her legs, dozing when the doorbell rang. Letting out a sigh of annoyance, Primrose slowly made her way to the door. Looking out the window set into the door, she saw Thomas standing on the doorstep. She opened the door, clearly confused.

Thomas smiled. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” she whispered, stepping aside to let him through the door.

She closed the door as quietly as she could manage and turned to see Thomas removed his jacket and hang it on a hook in the foyer.

“What are you doing here?” she kept her voice barely above a whisper. Though sound was less threatening, now, her own voice made her feel shaky.

“I came to make sure you were alright,” Thomas replied simply, mimicking her hushed volume. “To see if you needed anything.”

Stunned, Primrose shook her head and started carefully walking back to the living room. Thomas followed her. He studied her as she took her spot back on the couch. Her eyes were heavy, with dark circles under them. Her hair was a mess and she was trembling slightly at the exertion of moving from the couch to the door to the couch again.

“My, you really are in a bad way, aren’t you?” Thomas sat down next to her on the couch. “I’ll be honest, I assumed your uncle was just telling me you were sick to keep us from our date tonight. I’m sorry you are hurting. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Primrose couldn’t find words to respond. She wasn’t sure why he was here, or what to think of the situation at present, so she just reached for her tea. Thomas quickly took it from the table to hand to her.

“My dear, this has gone cold. Let me make you another cup.” Before she could respond, he was up and heading to the kitchen.

Primrose grabbed her phone and sent a text to Chris.

Malcolm told Tom I was sick. Tom is here. Find an excuse to come home please.

She put the phone back on the arm of the couch as Thomas came back into the room with a tray. It had a teapot, two cups with saucers, milk, sugar, honey and some crackers. He set the tray on the coffee table and began pouring tea into the cups.

“How do you know your way around Malcolm’s kitchen so well?” Primrose asked. “Just some honey, please.” Thomas poured a bit of honey into the cup and stirred carefully. “Thank you.”

“I’ve been to a few of your uncles parties.”

Primrose nodded. She supposed that made sense. She sipped her tea and returned her attention back to the movie. She set the cup back on the table and leaned her head against the arm of the couch. 

“Are you ok, darling?” Thomas asked, sitting back against the couch, still watching Primrose..

“I’ll be fine. Eventually. I just need to let it work itself out. Chris should be back soon with my medicine.” Primrose hoped she’d be able to give Chris the heads up when he arrived.

Thomas nodded and let the matter rest for a while. He continued drinking his tea, pretending to watch the TV show but mostly focused on Primrose. He gave her the tea cup whenever she started reaching for it. He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders when he noticed she was shivering.

Not long after, Chris came in. He went upstairs first, took a few ibuprofen from the bathroom and brought them back to the living room with him. 

“Hey, Prim,” he whispered. “I got your meds. How you doing?:” He sat right beside her, ignoring Thomas and handing her the ibuprofen and her teacup.

“Thanks, Chris.”

After she took the pills, she handed the teacup back to Chris, who put it on the table. Chris turned to Thomas.

“Hello, Mr. Hawthorne,” he finally said. “Have you been here long?”

“Not long at all, Chris. Just came to check in on Primrose. Malcolm said she was sick, home alone.” There was an edge to his voice. Chris and Primrose both heard it. And there was something, almost angry, in his eyes. Maybe even a little possessive. 

“Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne,” Chris said. “That is very kind of you.”

“Thank you, Tom. But I don’t want to take you away from your day. I’m sorry, but I’m not in any shape to go out tonight.”

Thomas stood up, went over to Primrose’s side and took her hand in his. “Don’t fret, darling. We can reschedule for Friday night. I’ll pick you up here at six.” He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles. “I must go and take care of a few things. But I will see you in a couple of nights. Feel better, darling.” When he set Primrose’s hand back on the couch, he took her phone and traced his fingers over the screen a for a few seconds. He took his phone out of his pocket as it started ringing. “There, now we have each other’s mobile numbers.” He set Primrose’s phone back on the arm of the couch, smiling charmingly at her. “Until Friday, darling.”

After Thomas left, Primrose looked at Chris. “Thank you!”

“I can’t believe he came over,” Chris said.

“I wasn’t sure what to do. I’m sorry to have disturbed you at work. But I just felt uncomfortable.”

“I can understand that. Did he look angry to you, when I got here. Like he was upset that I had shown up?”

“Yeah. That’s the vibe I’ve been talking about,” Primrose said. “Before you got here, he was very... I don’t know. He made me tea, and every time I moved to put the cup down or pick it up, he’d do it for me. It’s just weird.”

~~~~~~

Thomas was not pleased that Primrose had to cancel their evening plans. But when he saw her looking frail and miserable, he couldn’t be upset with her. However, upon looking at her text messages as he was entering his mobile number into her phone he noticed the message to Chris. 

Malcolm told Tom I was sick. Tom is here. Find an excuse to come home please.

So, she was playing hard to get, Thomas thought. Then he would just have to try harder.

Upon returning to the Estate, Thomas found Ewan, Benedict and two more men coming off the helicopter.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“We’ll discuss it inside,” an older, bald gentleman with a mustache said.

Inside, the men gathered in a large office. On the large wall-screen behind the huge desk was a video, queued up on a surveillance camera. 

“We found the one behind the information sales and loss of our items,” the older man said. He hit a button on the keyboard on the desk. A photo came up on the screen. It was of a group of men standing in one of the warehouses. Thomas recognized the warehouse as one of theirs. It looked like one of the men was handing something to another and another man was holding a crate. Another button and one of the men’s faces was zoomed in on. It was Malcolm Sheppard. 

“Seriously? Malcolm is the traitor?” A vicious smile curled his lips. 

“We need to move on this immediately. Unfortunately, Malcolm is so well positioned we can’t just eliminate him. We have to work him,” Benedict said. “We need to find his soft spot and use it to rein him back under our control before he does any permanent damage.”

“That’s where you and Ewan come into play,” the older gentleman started. “You both work with Malcolm regularly, what are his weaknesses?”

“He has two, Jon,” Thomas said. The smile just wouldn’t drop. “A nephew and a niece.”


	5. Chapter 5

On Thursday, Primrose felt well enough to work at the gallery. She had been laid up with the headache since Tuesday, staying home and trying her best to rest. She was still tired and her body was sore from cramping with the pain of the headache. But when her alarm clock went off Thursday morning, she managed to convince Chris and Malcolm that she was well enough to sit at her desk at the gallery and answer some emails. She rode to work with Chris and made arrangements to get a ride home with Malcolm during their lunch break. 

It was 11:55am when Malcolm knocked on Primrose’s office door. 

“Primrose, are you ready?” he asked.

Primrose grabbed her scarf, hat and purse. “Yes, uncle. Thanks again.”

Chris gave his sister a hug and reminded her to contact him if she needed anything as she and Malcolm made their way through the gallery and towards the door. Primrose turned away from the door to respond to Chris and walked right into someone. Still feeling off balance with the remnants of the headache, she wasn’t fast enough to catch herself. She bounced right off the person and landed hard on the tiled floor. 

“My goodness, darling, are you alright?” Thomas asked, bending and grabbing Primrose’s arm to help her back to her feet.

Chris rushed over to Primrose’s side immediately. “Are you ok?” He asked. Primrose nodded, pulling her arm, gently, from Thomas’s hand.

Thomas smiled charmingly at Primrose before turning his attention to Malcolm. “Are you ready?”

Malcolm regarded Thomas with slight confusion. “Ready for what?”

“Our lunch meeting,” Thomas said, looking from Malcolm to Chris and Primrose. “To meet with the sellers. For the art auction next month.” Thomas added.

“That was today?” Malcolm pulled his smartphone from his pocket and called up his calendar. “I have it on my schedule for next week. Are you sure it’s today?” 

“I had Tara confirm with Andy, Frank and Carmen an hour ago,” Thomas said. The look of disapproval was unmistakable. 

“I suppose I can reschedule my other plans,” Malcolm turned to Primrose and Chris. “Chris, can you take your sister back home?”

“Ah, no he can’t,” Vanessa said. “I have a date for lunch, and he was supposed to stay at the desk to wait for delivery.” She grabbed her purse from behind the counter and left the gallery.

“Why do I put up with that woman,” Malcolm asked himself. “Fine. Thomas, I will be at the lunch, but a few minutes late. I need to take Primrose home.”

“I’m picking up Frank from his gallery,” Thomas said. “I can drop Primrose at home on my way to get him.”

Malcolm gave Thomas an incredulous look, but knew arguing would only prolong the inevitable. Thomas clearly wanted to spend time with Primrose. Which meant he would find a way, no matter what. “As long as Primrose doesn’t mind, I suppose.”

Thomas cocked an eyebrow at Primrose. “You don’t mind, do you darling?” 

“No. Of course not,” she answered quietly. She looked at Chris and tried to smile reassuringly. “I’ll call you when I get home. See you tonight.”

Smiling, Thomas took Primrose’s hand and led her out the door and to his Jaguar. After he’d closed the passenger door for her, he pulled his phone from his pocket and began swiping his finger around the screen. He pushed the phone back in his pocket before opening the driver’s door.

“I’m glad to see you are feeling better,” Thomas said as he slid in behind the steering wheel. “You still look like you could use some rest, though. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, I’m ok, Tom,” she said. “Thank you, though. It’s very, um... kind of you, to be so concerned.”

“Not at all. I want to make sure you are well. I don’t like the idea of you being in pain.”

Primrose could only nod. What else could she do? 

“So, what kind of restaurant are we going to tomorrow night? So I know how to dress.”

“Ehehe, it’s a surprise,” Thomas chuckled. “Dress for elegance. I have no doubt you will be stunning.”

“Thank you.” 

Primrose looked out the window and realized Tom had driven past the street that would take them to her uncle’s townhouse.

“Um, Tom,” she said, feeling a little nervous. “Where are we going? I thought you were taking me back to Malcolm’s house before picking up the client for the lunch meeting.”

London flew by her window at an uncomfortable pace. Despite only having been in the city for a little over a week, and not knowing it very well, she did recognize Tom was driving the car west, away from the city proper. Her uncle’s gallery was just a few streets off Kia Oval on the north west side. Her uncle’s townhouse was on the south side of Kennington Park, but Tom never got off the A2. 

“Yes, well, the plan has changed,” Tom said coyly. He didn’t take his eyes from the London lunchtime traffic around him. Primrose was becoming increasingly unnerved by the situation. She fidgeted with the handle of her purse, deciding whether or not to pull out her phone.

“Ok, Tom,” Primrose said, trying to quell her fear. “Fun’s fun and all, but I’m still not feeling one hundred percent. So I would really like to get home and lay down.” 

“I understand, darling. But I can’t do that.” Tom finally glanced at Primrose. His eyes were more stern looking than she’d ever seen and his lips were set into a hard line. Looking back at the traffic, he let out an angry sounding sigh. Primrose looked out in front of them and saw a long line of cars, busses and trucks, stopped. A ways ahead she could see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. As Tom brought the Jag to a stop, Primrose saw her chance. She was frightened by the sudden change of plans and Tom’s demeanor. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in, and it was telling her to fly. Run. Get out of the car and far away from this man.

Primrose desperately pulled on the door latch, but her door didn’t open. As she searched the unfamiliar door handle for the lock, Tom’s hand snagged her left wrist with a bruising grip. Her attention was immediately brought back to him. And he was not amused.

“Primrose, you are a very clever woman. So, I’m not going to insult you by pulling a gun and threatening to harm you. You know I won’t hurt you. But I can assure you, I would feel no guilt, loose absolutely no sleep if I had to harm someone else because of your poor decisions.” Thomas’s intent was very clear. His blue eyes were calm, but sharp and focused. His voice laced with malicious intent. Primrose’s heart was bashing against her chest in fear and she suddenly forgot how to breathe. “Now, I suggest you just sit there and be a good girl while we wait out this minor inconvenience. And I’ll have your purse, if you please.” Primrose hesitated, but inevitably handed her purse to Thomas. Thomas let go of her wrist, grabbed the purse and settled back behind the wheel. He pulled her mobile from the front pocket and put it in his inside jacket pocket, before returning his attention to the traffic incident.

Primrose held her wrist to her chest and tried to focus on releasing the breath she had been holding. She blinked away the tears that had welled in her eyes. “Where are you taking me?” she finally managed to ask. Her voice was unsure and shaky.

The traffic was starting to be detoured around the incident. Thomas didn’t answer her right away. He maneuvered the Jag along with the rest of the traffic. His hand slipped from the steering wheel, reached over and grabbed Primrose’s hand again when they were forced to drive by a police officer directing the traffic. He squeezed her fingers in a dominant and possessive manner. She just looked at the officer helplessly as they drove by.

“Good girl,” Thomas purred, letting go of her hand once they were clear of the incident. Primrose did her best to stifle an annoyed whimper before it could leave her throat. 

The Jag wasn’t off the A2 for more than a block. Thomas continued driving east, out of the city.

“Where are you taking me?” Primrose asked again.

“The drive normally takes about an hour. But after that little delay,” Thomas shrugged. Primrose waited for him to finish his thought, but he offered nothing else.


	6. Chapter 6

Twenty-five minutes. Malcolm, Carmen and Andy had been making small talk while waiting for Thomas and Frank for twenty-five minutes. Frank was the first to arrive. 

“Where’s Thomas?” Malcolm asked.

“Something came up and Jon needed him back at the Estate,” Frank answered, taking a seat.

Malcolm frowned in suspicion, but continued with the meeting.

It was well after one in the afternoon when Malcolm returned to his gallery. Vanessa had returned and was barking orders to Chris, who was trying to open some packages. 

“Did you get lunch, yet, Chris?” Malcolm asked, approaching the reception desk. 

Chris shot a glance at Vanessa before answering. “Not yet. How was your meeting?”

“The meeting was fine. The auction will be held at the gallery,” Malcolm explained. “Go get some lunch. Vanessa can handle the deliveries.” Vanessa huffed in annoyance. Malcolm turned his attention to her. “Or Vanessa can find another job. I’m rather tired of your attitude.” Before she could respond, Malcolm walked away, towards his office. Before he disappeared behind the Employee’s Only door, he asked Chris, “Did Primrose call you?” 

“Um, I haven’t had a chance to check my cell,” Chris said, shooting another annoyed look towards Vanessa. “Why?”

“Just a feeling. Let me know after you check.” And with that Malcolm left the gallery showroom.

~~~~~~

The Estate was a large, 2 story, Italianate mansion with a finished walk-out basement. A vast Mediterranean villa, cream colored walls with the distinct rust colored clay roof tiles standing tall over pristinely manicured gardens and lawns. The driveway, perfectly laid cobblestone, wound two lanes wide up the steady hill from the front gate to a circle leading to the portico, with a single lane drive leading to the three car garage in back. 

It was nearly an hour and half since leaving the gallery when Thomas pulled his Jaguar into the garage of the Estate. Ewan was waiting at the garage door and greeted Thomas as he got out of the car.

“Mac got back about 40 minutes ago,” Ewan said. “He said you changed the plans. Jon is not pleased.”

They had been planning the abduction since Tuesday night. Thomas had wanted to wait until his planned dinner date with Primrose, but Jon had insisted the plan be carried out as soon as possible. Jon was concerned Malcolm was planning to interfere with their shipment coming in on Friday. Thomas had placed both Malcolm’s townhouse and the gallery under surveillance, waiting for the right opportunity. When Mac, the man watching Malcolm’s house called Thomas to let him know Primrose was going to work, he put the plan into action. Thomas had called Andy, Frank and Carmen and told them to meet Malcolm at the restaurant at noon. Mac was to wait until quarter to noon to pack a bag for Primrose then head to the gallery to collect her. Thomas was supposed to pick Malcolm up from the gallery for the lunch meeting, ensuring he’d be out of the way. Mac was to join Kale, the man watching the gallery, in ransacking the gallery, subduing Chris and abducting Primrose. When Thomas discovered Primrose was supposed to go back home at lunch, he realized the plans had to change. This pleased him, as he had argued against having Mac collect Primrose. He knew Mac’s reputation for violence and had been worried for her safety. 

“The plan had to change,” Thomas said as he opened the passenger door to collect Primrose. “I will get her settled in the room, then speak with Jon.” He grabbed Primrose’s arm and pulled her from the seat. 

“You’ll find him and Ben in the office,” Ewan said before leaving through the door.

Thomas led Primrose into the house, through the chef’s kitchen to the service elevator. Once in the elevator, heading for the second floor, Thomas resituated his hold on Primrose, taking her upper arm in one hand and placing the other hand at the small of her back. Despite having her in front of him, this position gave him more control to guide her with less pulling. He needed to maintain control over the situation, but he didn’t want to hurt her. 

His personal suite was at the back of the manor, down the long hall, to the left. It overlooked the vast Estate grounds. The room was dark in nature and sparsely decorated. The walls were navy blue with rich, polished walnut wood crown and floor moulding with trim around the doors and windows to match. A large king sized canopy bed sat as the focal point against the wall adjacent to the two windows in the wall opposite the door. There was a chaise lounge chair in the corner by the windows with a floor lamp behind it and a bookcase beside it. A small writing desk sat in the corner. The bed, nightstands, desk, chair, bookcase and bay window bench were made of dark mahogany wood and supple black leather. The thin curtains of the canopy bed were drawn and tied to the corner posts, matching the curtains around the windows.

Thomas stopped in the middle of the room and let go of Primrose. He left her standing there as he closed and locked the heavy wooden door. When he turned his attention back to the beautiful, frightened young woman standing in the middle of his suite, several thoughts whirled through his mind- less than a handful actually about the current job. Primrose was standing rigidly in the middle of the room, arms crossed, in a defensive manner. She was avoiding having to look at him. Doing what she could to swallow the fear and panic rising from her chest. 

“Mac broke into your uncle’s place and packed a bag for you,” Thomas said as he walked to the large bed. He opened a small suitcase and left it for Primrose to inspect. He left the bed and walked to a door adjacent to the bed. “The en suite is through here. I have to talk with Jon about what happened. But I will be back shortly. In the meantime, try to stay calm. No one will harm you.” Thomas watched as Primrose put the bed between Thomas and herself. She was still, purposely, not looking at him. But Thomas could still see her face, and could tell she was on the verge of tears. “What are you thinking, Primrose?”

Primrose hugged herself tightly. “What’s going on, Mr. Hawthorne? Why am I here?”

“I asked you to call me Tom,” he started, trying to sound firm but gentle. He saw the first couple of tears run down her cheeks. “I have to speak with Jon, but when I get back I will tell you why I’ve brought you here. Please, do not try to leave this room. Use the en suite if you’d like to clean up. Change into something more comfortable.” Thomas gave Primrose a small smile before walking out of the room. Primrose heard the distinct click of a deadbolt lock finding it’s home after he closed the door. 

Thomas removed his key from the deadbolt on the suite door. Jon’s office was back down the hall, past the service elevator, over the garage. As he walked, he looked down into the Grand Room and Foyer below the hallway, to see the usual security detail by the doors and windows. Just as he was passing the elevator and second set of stairs he saw Ewan, a young, thinner man and a larger, brawny man come up the second set of stairs. Ewan and the thinner man joined Thomas while the larger man started walking toward Thomas’s suite. Immediately, Thomas stopped and looked after the man. 

“Relax, Thomas,” Ewan said. “Mac is just going to stand guard at your door. In case she decides to try to leave, or she needs something. Come on, we need to talk to Jon and Ben.”

Thomas mentally cursed himself for not assigning his own security to watch Primrose. He did not like Mac, the man’s reputation was appalling, and well earned. But he didn’t have time to find a solution. Hopefully, Mac wouldn’t bother Primrose. Hopefully, the meeting would go quickly.

Thomas was the first to walk in. The office was large. There was a long, mahogany desk in front of the back wall with two computer monitors, a keyboard and a few files. Sitting in the leather desk chair was Jon. He was on the phone, listening. He gestured for Thomas, Ewan and the other man to sit in the chairs around the room. Benedict was already in the chair in front of the desk. Thomas declined to sit, coming to stand next to Benedict. 

Jon hung up the phone and turned his attention to Thomas. “Explain yourself, Thomas. If I knew this was going to reach too personally for you, I’d have let Ben plan it.” Anger and disappointment rang clearly in his smooth voice. But Thomas didn’t even flinch at the accusation. 

“The plan had to change. The situation changed,” Thomas explained, calmly. “I went to the gallery to pick up Malcolm and take him to the lunch, as planned. But he was leaving to take Primrose back to his house. She’s been ill the last couple days and was leaving work early. Had I let him take her home, one or both of them would have walked in on Mac packing for her extended stay. That would have created a rather disastrous mess, I’m sure you can appreciate that. I made a decision and changed things up to prevent any problems. This way, Malcolm was still out of the way, Mac was still able to move through Malcolm’s house undetected, we didn’t need to create a scene at the gallery, or subdue Chris. We have Primrose, safely, and Malcolm is, currently, still unaware. We still hold the advantage.”

Jon seemed to be processing this information. “Very well.” He stood up. “The meeting still stands. Tonight, dinner at 7. Thomas, make sure Primrose is ready for tonight. I will contact Malcolm.” Ewan, the younger man and Benedict all stand when Jon began walking to the door. “Is she in your room?”

“Yes. She’s adjusting about as well as can be expected,” Thomas said, following Jon into the hallway. 

“I wish to meet her. I’ll take the photo while we have a moment. Proof for Malcolm,” he said. Thomas just nodded as he and Jon walked to the door guarded by Mac. 

“She hasn’t made a sound,” Mac said, moving away from the door. 

Thomas unlocked the door and slowly opened it, letting Primrose have time to adjust if she needed it. He stepped in and saw her sitting on the bench at the window next to the bed. She had taken Thomas’s suggestion to change into something more comfortable. She was wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Primrose curled into herself more when Thomas and Jon walked into the room. 

“Hello, Primrose. My name is Jonathan Kingsley. Welcome to my Estate,” Jon said, tilting his head in greeting. “I am sorry we are meeting for the first time under such distressing circumstances, but I assure you, as long as you and your uncle adhere to the rules, no harm will come to you.” As Jon spoke, Thomas slowly walked over to Primrose. 

“My uncle? What rules?” Primrose asked.

“Yes,” Jon said. Thomas offered Primrose his hand. She did not accept it. “I, unfortunately, do not have the time to explain. However, once I leave, Thomas will. Right now, I require just a moment of your time. Please, come sit on the bed with Thomas. That’s a good girl.” His tone was condescending and bored, at best.

Primrose looked from Jon to Thomas, who was still standing before her, hand out. She was still hesitant to take his hand, or move from the window bench at all. 

“I am afraid I must insist,” Thomas said, trying to give Primrose a small smile. “He’s in a hurry and will ask me to be more assertive if you linger.” Primrose swallowed dryly and placed her hand in Thomas’s. He pulled her to her feet and escorted her to the bed. 

Thomas sat down first, at the foot of the bed, legs spread apart. He pulled Primrose between his legs and pulled her to sit on his left knee. Once seated, her feet dangled a couple inches off the floor, between Thomas’s legs. He circled her waist with his left arm and held her wrists firmly in his right hand, on her lap. The pose conveyed utter dominance and possession. Primrose felt it as soon as he had her seated. And when Jon took his phone from his jacket pocket and took a photo of the pair of them, she realized the whole thing was meant as a message. The look on Thomas’s chiseled features was one of control, firm and calm. Eyes of cool, blue steel. His lips were drawn in a tight line, and his jaw was set. There was no emotion to be found. Primrose, on the other hand, looked both terrified and angry. Her emerald eyes were red and watery. Her full lips were trembling, just barely. And a hard line of concern had formed over her furrowed brow. Jon saw the pair through his phone’s camera and smiled. Despite some minor changes, the plan was coming together nicely. 

“Thank you, Thomas. I leave you to tend to your guest. Remember, dinner is at 7.” Jon didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. He just left the room. 

“Close the door, Mac,” Thomas said to the brawny man standing in the hallway. Once the door was closed, Thomas let go of Primrose’s hands and loosened his grip around her waist. Without thinking, Primrose leapt from Thomas’s lap as if she’d been shocked. She moved as far away from Thomas as the suite would allow her, before turning back to look at him.

“What does Malcolm have to do with you bringing me and keeping me here?” she asked. 

Thomas sighed, but remained seated. “Your uncle made a terrible mistake. He’s been working within our organization for a very long time, and got too comfortable. He forgot himself.” Thomas stood up, gracefully, and walked over towards the closet. “He is selling information and items to our competitors. Unfortunately, he’s also very well established, not just within the organization, but within the community. He owns a great deal of our storage and transportation facilities, through the gallery. So we can not simply get rid of him. We need...”

“You’re using me. To control Malcolm.” Primrose was clearly angry and disgusted. 

“Among other things, yes. You are our sweet, little bargaining chip. Leverage to help ensure Malcolm’s complacency.” Thomas stepped out of the closet with a beautiful black tuxedo jacket, pants and a crisp white button down shirt over his arm. He hung them on the canopy bar before turning his attention back to Primrose, who had managed to get back to her previous seat on the window bench. “You will be staying here, with me until tomorrow. Then I will be moving you to a location your uncle doesn’t know about. Would you like some tea?”

Thomas didn’t wait for an answer. He walked to the door and opened it. 

“What rules?” Primrose asked, suddenly.

“Those will be discussed over dinner with Malcolm present,” Thomas said. “I’ll fetch us some tea and be right back. As always, do not leave this room.” He closed the door, soundly, behind him and locked it before finding his way to the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what the Estate looks like, or Primrose's gown, copy and paste the links below.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris hadn’t received that call, or text from Primrose. He and Malcolm were becoming increasingly worried. Both had tried to contact Primrose, with no success. Around 4 pm, Malcolm received a photo message with text attached, from Jon Kingsley. 

We know what you’ve been doing. We have Primrose. Meet us at the Estate at 7 for dinner. Formal attire. You may bring Chris, but no one else. -JK

Malcolm gasped loudly when he looked at the attached picture. Primrose was perched on Thomas’s lap. She was clearly frightened and upset, in Thomas’s arms. Thomas looked as neutral as usual. Nothing ever seemed to phase him, Malcolm thought. The picture enraged Malcolm and it took a great effort not to through his mobile across the room. Instead, he grabbed his belongings and made his way to the gallery floor, to find Chris.

“Chris, we need to go,” he said.

Immediately, Chris looked concerned. “Primrose? Did you hear from her? Is she OK?”

“I’ll tell you in the car. Vanessa, you’re closing. The shop is closed tomorrow,” Malcolm snapped. Chris and Vanessa shared a look. Something was up, and it concerned Primrose. Chris’s stomach started knotting.

Though Chris had driven himself to work this morning, he didn’t question Malcolm’s demand that he ride home with him. Chris sat in the front passenger seat, feeling the anger rolling off Malcolm.

“What’s going on, Malcolm?” Chris finally asked.

“Thomas has Primrose,” Malcolm said. He handed Chris his phone with the message still up. 

“What the hell! What does he mean ‘We know what you’ve been doing?’ Who are these people?” Chris demanded. “What’s going on and why do they have Primrose?”

“Chris, I’m sorry. I didn’t think anything like this would happen,” Malcolm sighed. “I work for an organization that deals in the illegal selling and buying of certain goods. Drugs, art, weapons and certain services. My job was to facilitate storage for the shipments. I own a lot of property, warehouses, and safe houses, around London and the surrounding area.”

Chris sat quietly for a moment. Malcolm was already pulling into his garage. He and Chris walked into the the house in silence. Chris wasn’t sure how he felt about the information his uncle had just told him. But he knew it didn’t bode well for his sister.

“What does any of this have to do with Primrose and Thomas?” Chris bit out.

“The organization is run by Jonathan Kingsley, Thomas is his second in command. That’s why I wasn’t thrilled when he took such an interest in your sister.” Malcolm gave Chris a look full of regret. “Anyway, I was working with another group, selling them some information about the organization and selling some of the goods that came in access. It appears I got sloppy and have been caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar. I assume they took Primrose as leverage against me. But we will find out tonight at dinner. Do you have a nicer suit than the ones you wear for work?”

“What do you mean leverage? What are they going to do to her?” Chris snarled.

Malcolm stood calmly in front of his nephew. “Chris, you need to calm down. They won’t harm Primrose. She’s fine. We are going to dinner at Jon’s Estate, where they will presumably discuss their terms and conditions. Until then, I don’t have any further information about their plans with Primrose. Please. Just go get dressed for dinner. Formal.”

Malcolm left his angry nephew standing in the kitchen. He walked to his bedroom and began getting ready for dinner. The dinner being at seven meant they would have to leave his townhouse by six at the latest to make it through the London traffic and get there on time. Under such circumstances, it would not be prudent to show up fashionably late. His niece’s well being meant far too much to him. 

~~~~~~~

Thomas had brought a tea tray back to the room with him. He found Primrose in her favored spot by the window. He set the tray on the desk and poured two cups. He tried his best to invoke a sense of comfort by offering her a cup. But she refused to accept it. She just stayed in her spot, knees up against her chest, arms wrapped around her knees, trying her best not to panic or cry. 

“Your uncle and brother have been invited to have dinner with us tonight to discuss the terms of your stay with us. The dinner is formal, so I took the liberty of buying you a dress for the occasion. I am pretty confident it will fit.” Thomas disappeared into the closet as he spoke and reappeared with a beautiful, full length gown. It was a stunning shade of champagne with a Jacquard tulle overlay. It had a subtle v-neck and beautifully draped shoulders. Primrose’s first reaction was awe. It was a beautiful dress and she would have been happy to wear it. If the situation had been different. As it was, the situation made Primrose’s stomach twist in uncomfortable knots and she was not interested in playing dress up with Thomas, or anyone else. 

She realized he was waiting for some sort of verbal response from her, as he was still holding it up for show. “I-it’s beautiful,” she couldn’t keep her voice from cracking, and he noticed. He hung the dress up next to his tux and approached Primrose cautiously. 

“Primrose, I understand you are frightened,” he started. “It’s a very natural response to what is going on. Not knowing what is going to happen can be a very scary feeling. But I am not going to let anything happen to you. You’re uncle is an intelligent man. He will adhere to our terms and will ensure your safety.” Primrose put her head in her hands and began rubbing her temples and forehead. She couldn’t fight the tears anymore. Thomas knelt on the floor in front of her and put a hand on her knee. “My darling...”

Primrose couldn’t contain her anger and fear any further. She pushed Thomas’s hand off her knee and shoved him backwards, away from her. “Don’t you touch me!” she snapped. She leapt to her feet and jumped over Thomas but before she could get to the door, the edges of her vision started going gray and blurry. Feeling lightheaded, Primrose did her best to ease herself onto the ground. When the sensation started to ebb, Primrose looked up to find Thomas standing above her with a concerned look on his face. Pursing his lips into a thin line, he bent down and scooped her up. He took her to the bed and carefully set her against the pillows. 

“Don’t move. I’ll get you something for your head.” He gave her a stern look before walking over to the desk to retrieve the tea tray. He brought the tray to the bed and set it on the bedside table. He took a small, white pill bottle from the tray, unscrewed the cap and poured out a tiny yellow tablet. He held his hand out, the tablet in his palm. Primrose just stared at him.

“This will help with the anxiety. Hopefully, once you are more calm, your headache will ease up. If not, I made sure Mac brought all of your medications from your uncle’s place.” But Primrose did not take the pill. 

“I’m not taking anything from you,” she whispered. 

Thomas let out a frustrated sigh. “Primrose, I’m trying to help. You are in pain. You are in distress. It’s just diazepam, you can see the bottle. It is a very mild sedative to help you calm down. Might even help you nap for a bit. Please, take the pill.” He was trying to keep his voice even and gentle, but his eyes were telling Primrose he was straining to keep his control. When Primrose still refused to accept the pill, Thomas found himself gritting his teeth against physically responding. When he let out a long breath to steady himself, he tried again. “Ok. Primrose, I really don’t want to see you suffering like this, but if you refuse to take the pill, you force me to take more drastic measures.” 

Thomas put the pill on the tray next to the pill bottle and stood from the bed. He made his way to the bathroom. Primrose could hear him opening a drawer, then close it before coming back into the room. He was holding a small tin lock-box. He set it on the bedside table and took a seat at the edge of the bed next to Primrose. She watched as he withdrew a tiny key from the bedside table drawer and unlocked the box. Thomas took out a still packaged needled syringe and a bottle of a clear liquid. He set the two items on the tea tray next to the pill bottle. 

“This is a tranquilizer. It will knock you out for a couple hours and make you very hazy for a few hours after you wake up. These are your two choices. A tiny, easy to swallow pill that will help you calm down and sleep for a couple hours. Or an injection that will put you out of commission for the rest of the night. You have 15 seconds to decide.” Thomas twisted his wrist around and looked at his watch. 

Primrose bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She didn’t like the idea of taking either substance. Being forced into a further state of vulnerability by Thomas was terrifying. She couldn’t fathom willingly putting herself in that state. But what else could she do. She was in no condition to fight. And there was nowhere for her to go.

“Five seconds.”

Primrose made her choice. She reached over to the tray and picked up the tablet. Letting out a breath of relief, Thomas handed her a tea cup and watched her down the pill.

“Good girl,” Thomas praised, setting the tea cup back on the tray. He moved the tray and lock box over to his desk and brought a box of tissues to the bedside table for Primrose. He gently wiped at the trail of tears on her pale cheeks. “Try to get some rest. I’ll come to help you get ready for dinner at six. If you need anything and I’m not in the room, knock on the door. I’ll have Mason standing by to get me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is what I envision for the Estate:  
> http://www.eplans.com/house-plans/epl/styles/neoclassical-house-plans/italianate-house-plans/hwepl05306.html
> 
> and what I see for Primrose's gown:  
> http://www.saksfifthavenue.com/main/ProductDetail.jsp?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306634682&PRODUCT%3C%3Eprd_id=845524446782349&R=812025021294&P_name=RENE+RUIZ&N=4294906662+306634682&bmUID=ldCbgtA


	8. Chapter 8

Chris joined Malcolm in the foyer at twenty to six. He was wearing a sharp black tuxedo his uncle had insisted he buy, though at the time he had no idea what he’d ever wear it for. Now he stood, wondering why such a dinner would be so formal. Malcolm was wearing an equally smart tuxedo. Chris couldn’t bring himself to look at his uncle. He was far too angry. His sister was being held against her will somewhere outside of town, and it was all Malcolm’s fault. Or maybe it was his. Chris had been trying all day to figure out how he should have prevented this situation. 

“Jon has an estate outside of Dartford. It’ll take just over an hour to get there with traffic,” Malcolm said. “Are you ready?” He looked his nephew over. The kid cleaned up very well. 

“Do I need anything?” Chris asked. He felt he should be going into this more prepared, but wasn’t sure what preparations would really be wise. The only thing he had thought to bring was a one and a half inch, golden locket their mother had given to Primrose. It held a photo of their parents and a photo of the siblings. A year ago, Chris had installed a tiny personal GPS tracking device behind the photo of the parents. Things had been rough and he was worried about his sister’s safety. She had to walk through some rough neighborhoods and a horribly unsafe park to get from their tiny flat to any grocery story. He had to make the device from pieces of other trackers, so it would fit, so it wasn’t the strongest signal or the most accurate. But he felt it was the best thing he could do in this situation. If he could find a way to get the locket to his sister, he may be able to keep tabs on her location. He shoved the locket in his pants pocket before his uncle noticed. 

“No. There is nothing we can bring.”

~~~~~~~

Thomas let Primrose rest. She didn’t fall asleep right away, but was passive and calm. Eventually, when he came back to the room to check on her, she was asleep, curled up on her side under the comforter. It was only four in the afternoon, so he busied himself with emails and reading over contracts and shipping statements. At six, his mobile phone’s alarm went off, alerting him it was time to wake Primrose and start getting ready for dinner. 

He sat on the bed, next to her. “Primrose,” he whispered. He gently rubbed her back and talked to her until she stirred. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and turned to look up at Thomas. “Darling, it’s time to get ready for dinner. How are you feeling?” 

Primrose still felt tired and a bit foggy-brained, but nothing terrible. Her headache was barely a dull ache at the back of her skull. She blinked a few times before trying to sit up. “I’m... ok,” she mumbled. She rubbed her face and did her best to avoid looking at Thomas. 

“Let me help you to the bathroom to freshen up. Then I will leave you to get dressed,” Thomas said. He stood up and waited for Primrose to untangle herself from the bedding and swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She didn’t accept his hand when she was ready to stand. Instead, she eased off the bed and gave herself a few moments to adjust to the new position before taking the dress from the canopy rail and going into the bathroom. Before she could shut herself in the room, Thomas put his hand up to stop her. “If you insist on getting ready in there, I insist on getting what I need to get ready. I’ll only be a moment, darling.” Thomas walked past Primrose and went to the sink. He grabbed his toothbrush, toothpaste, cologne, comb and hair product from one of the shelves. As he walked out he looked back at Primrose. “I will just be down the hall in the spare room. I’ll give you about 40 minutes. Mac did pack your cosmetics. I moved the bag to the bathroom while you were sleeping.”

Thomas closed the bathroom door as he left. He took his collection to the spare room just next door to his room before coming back to collect his tuxedo. He locked his bedroom door once it was closed, to ensure her privacy. 

Primrose found her cosmetics bag next to the sink. It had her face wash, moisturizer, makeup and hair brush. She decided to take her time, and was less than interested in getting all primped for such an occasion, so she did the bare minimum for makeup and just ran a brush through her hair. She was pleased to find that Thomas hadn’t come back yet, when she finally emerged from the bathroom almost 40 minutes later. But just as she started to settle into her preferred spot by the window, the door opened. 

Thomas looked stunning in his tuxedo. His hair was combed back, with a couple of the curls straining to fall forward. He was clearly at ease wearing such a suit. Primrose realized she was staring and quickly looked down at her fidgeting fingers. She felt completely out of place in such a   
fancy dress and found herself wrapping her arms around her waist in a self conscious manner.

“You are an absolute vision, darling,” Thomas said as he looked Primrose over. The dress fit her perfectly. “That dress suits you very well.” Though his smile was genuine, there was an almost hungry look in his eyes that unsettled Primrose. He walked towards her and held out his hand. “Come, we are meeting in the Grand Room before Malcolm and Chris arrive.”

Primrose stepped closer and took Thomas’s hand, but didn’t start walking with him. “You didn’t give me shoes,” she said.

Thomas broke out into a sheepish grin. “Um, I’m afraid I forgot about shoes. I’m sorry. Oh! But I still have your shoes from dinner the other night.” He dropped her hand and went to his closet. Quick as a flash he was back beside her, carrying her white peep-toe pumps. He set them on the floor in front of Primrose, who slipped into them. 

“Thank you.”

Thomas smiled and took her hand, again, and led her out of the room. They made their way down the short hallway that led straight to the stairwell. The stairs came down right in front of the grand room, where Jon, Benedict, Ewan and two other men were waiting.

“My dear,” Jon said in a friendly voice. “You look absolutely beautiful.” He came forward to stand in front of Primrose. Primrose couldn’t stop herself from shrinking back, unconsciously stepping behind Thomas to put some distance between herself and the other man. Something about his presence, especially in such a well made suit, made her uncomfortable. Jon just smiled at the reaction. Clearly it was a reaction he had tried to cultivate among many.

“Please, let me introduce you to my associates. You know Thomas, of course. I believe you’ve met Benedict and Ewan. This young man is Nick Harris, and this is Patrick.” Nick was very tall, at least as tall as Thomas, but more lanky, with slightly shaggy brown hair and brilliant blue eyes. He smiled shyly at Primrose as he was introduced. Patrick was a short, pudgy man with black eyes and a receding hair line and a lot of worry lines. He barely acknowledged Primrose. 

“Let’s sit.” Jon gestured to the formally set dining room across the hall, next to the foyer. “Malcolm should be here soon.” Jon took his seat at the head of the long, ash-grey colored table. A beautiful bank of windows stood behind him. Thomas brought Primrose to sit to Jon’s right. He pulled her chair out, like a gentleman, and then took the seat next to her. Benedict sat on Jon’s left, Ewan to Benedict’s left and Nick on Thomas’s right. As the group settled in, Jon turned his attention back to Primrose. “Now, my dear, I need you to understand, we mean you no ill will. But we are businessmen, and I have a few rules I require you to follow during this evenings dinner. I know you will feel compelled to run to your brother, but you are to stay next to Thomas at all times tonight. While we are in this room, you will remain seated, unless otherwise instructed. You are not to speak to your family, unless otherwise instructed. Basically, stay calm, stay quiet and do as you are told. Understand?”

Primrose could only nod. She was too frightened to do anything else. She kept her eyes down, looking at her hands on her lap and nervously picked at her fingernails. 

“Good girl,” Jon said. He pat Primrose gently on the shoulder just as the doorbell rang. “Ah, they’re here.” Thomas checked his watch, it was two minutes to seven. Malcolm always had a knack for being on time. The men stood to greet their guest, Thomas prompted Primrose to stand as well. A man in a tidy suit escorted Malcolm and Chris into the dining room before turning around and leaving.

“Malcolm, so good of you to join us for dinner,” Jon said, graciously. He gestured for Malcolm and Chris to sit. Malcolm sat at the end, so he could keep eye contact with Jon as they spoke. Chris was prompted to sit to his right, next to Ewan. 

“Well, how could I refuse such an invitation, Jon,” Malcolm replied calmly. He never took his eyes off Primrose, who in turn met his gaze with a mixture of anger and fear. 

“I’m afraid our other guest is being held up, so we will just continue without him.” Jon sat down, everyone followed suit. As they sat, two women in grey maid’s outfits came in and began pouring water and a red wine. Thomas stopped them from pouring wine for Primrose. He gave her a look of apology but said nothing.

“Primrose, dear, are you alright? They haven't hurt you or...”

“She's fine,” Thomas said, cutting Malcolm off from finishing his line of thinking. “I assure you, no one has harmed her.” He gently set a hand on Primrose’s arm, making her jump. “Isn’t that right, darling.”

Primrose looked at Thomas, making sure she was allowed to speak. When he nodded, she replied. “I’m fine, uncle.” 

After the maid’s left, four men walked in, each holding two salad plates, except the last who had three. The men set the plates in front of each diner and left without saying anything. The whole dinner was extravagant and formal. Everyone waited for Jon to spread his napkin over his lap before following suit. They waited for him to take the first bite before they tucked into their own salads. Malcolm had instructed Chris about such etiquette. And Thomas was guiding Primrose. Neither Chris or Primrose, however, showed much interest in their salads. Though neither were speaking, they were sharing glances and looks across the table. The uncomfortable silence lasted until Jon was half way through his salad before he spoke again.

Jon gestured with his hand and Nick stood up. He retrieved a folder from the sidebar and set it in front of Malcolm before returning to his seat. 

“We have evidence of your betrayal, Malcolm,” Jon stated. Malcolm opened the folder and began looking through the files and photographs. “You have been in this organization for a very long time. You know how we typically deal with those who cross us.” Malcolm met Jon’s eyes. Despite the unruffled appearance of both men, there was definite tension between them. “We know who you’ve been selling to, we found the man from that photo. He was to be our other guest, but as I said, he’s running late. Said some nasty things to Mac and Kale they just couldn’t shrug off.” Jon’s dark eyes blazed with hidden meaning. “So, what we need now is to figure out how to fix this problem. You can not be trusted anymore, Malcolm. That is a very disappointing. You were like family to me.”

The four men came back and removed the salad plates, replacing them with the entree. Beef wellington, double baked potato and steamed asparagus. If Primrose’s stomach wasn’t churning with anxiety, and the situation would have been different, she was sure to have been thrilled with such an elegant dinner. As it was, when Jon and the others began eating, she just pushed the food around her plate, nibbling when she’d catch a look of concern from Chris, Malcolm or Thomas. But she couldn’t enjoy it. 

“So here is how this will work, Malcolm,” Jon started. “We will deal with the men you worked with, but unfortunately, you are another story.” Jon was not oblivious to the self satisfied smirk playing across Malcolm’s face. “We've had our lawyers look through your contracts. You really knew what you were doing. We can't just have you sign the properties over to us and have you killed. You've made that impossible. But Patrick, here, did find a loophole. You can sign the properties over to a next of kin.” Jon looked over to Thomas, who was listening intently. He wiped his mouth with his napkin. 

“You will sign over the properties, and anything else we see fit, to Primrose. She will hold them for the appropriate length of time and then sign everything over to the organization,” Thomas explained. “While we wait for all the legal paperwork and contracts to be drawn up, the lovely Primrose will be staying, safely, under our personal protection. And after the contracts are signed, we will determine your worth to this organization. If we find you to be indispensable, we will continue to keep Primrose, as a means of, shall we say, influence over your actions. And let's make this perfectly clear right now, her life is now in our hands. You fucked up. If you do so again, if you warn the people you were selling to or try to rearrange the contracts in any way we don't like, your punishment will become hers. Understand?” There was no mistaking the dangerous tone to Thomas's voice. It sent a shiver through Primrose, who tried to meet her uncle with pleading eyes.

“This goes for you, as well, Chris,” Thomas said, turning his severe gaze from Malcolm to Chris. “From this moment on, you will be working directly with Malcolm and Ewan within the organization. They will be grooming you to take over for Malcolm, when the need arises.”

Chris flushed crimson, his face hot with anger. It took a considerable amount of self control to keep from springing to his feet and starting a fight. But he had to think of Primrose. His actions would get her hurt, or worse. And he couldn’t do that to her. He had to play smart. So he bit his tongue, literally, and nodded his understanding.

Malcolm took a moment to compose himself before responding. “I understand. And what assurances do I have that you won't touch my niece,” Malcolm asked. No one missed the innuendo, which made Chris ball his hand into a tight fist around his fork. “You or anyone who come here.”

“You keep up your end and nothing will happen to Primrose,” Jon replied. “Thomas will be taking good care of her. You are quite right, this is a very busy Estate, people going in and out at all hours. That is why Thomas and Benedict will be taking Primrose to a more secure location.”

“That's my concern.”

Before anyone could respond, Mac came to the dining room entrance, a mess of a man stumbling next to him. 

“Ah, perfect timing, Mac. Please, bring Mr. Martin in.” Jon gestured to the empty seat across from Chris. Mac shoved the beaten and bloodied man into the chair and stood behind the chair. “Malcolm, you recognize Mr. Martin. For those who may not, this is the man to whom Malcolm was selling our goods and information. This man works for Mark Steele.” There was a distinct manner in which everyone, except Chris, Malcolm and Primrose, accepted that information. Benedict shifted slightly in his chair. Thomas straightened. Ewan put his fork down and put his hands on his lap and Nick smiled wickedly.

“So you’ve betrayed us to our biggest competitor. How poignant,” Benedict sighed.

Only a few moments passed between the time Jon set his flatware down and the four men returned to collect all the entree plates. When they disappeared, Jon stood up, everyone followed suit, except Mr. Mason, who looked to weak to try standing on his own. 

“Ewan, Nick, will you please take Primrose and Chris into the grand room while we deal with Mr. Mason. Thomas, I’d like you to stay for this.” Nick stepped around Thomas to take Primrose by the wrist and pull her from the room. Ewan gestured for Chris to exit the room.

Once in the grand room, Ewan and Nick allowed Chris and Primrose to sit next to each other and talk. Chris took this opportunity to pull out the locket. 

“May I give her something your thug forgot?” Chris asked.

Nick and Ewan exchanged a look before nodding. 

“Of course,” Ewan said.

Chris held the locket by its chain. Primrose almost sobbed when she saw it dangling from her brothers hand.

“Thank you!” Primrose said. She put the necklace around her neck and gave her brother a hug. “Tá mé ag scanraithe, Chris,” she whispered, in Irish Gaelic. (I’m scared, Chris.) 

Just as Chris was about to respond, the high pitched whistle of a muffled gun being fired was heard from the dining room. Primrose yelped and buried her face into Chris’s shoulder. Chris hugged his sister tighter. Ewan and Nick just stood next to them, their conversation didn’t even falter. It wasn’t until Thomas, Malcolm, Benedict and Jon walked into the grand room that Ewan and Nick stopped talking about tennis. 

“It’s time to leave, Chris,” Malcolm announced. He looked agitated as he came around to the sitting area to pull Primrose into a hug. “I’m sorry this is happening, Prim. I’ll make it right.” 

When he let go of her, Chris hugged her again, whispering, “Bí cróga. Beidh mé ag teacht ar do shon.” (Be brave. I’ll come for you). 

When he finally let her go, Thomas was waiting to pull her away from her family. He smirked at Chris, as he began following his uncle out of the mansion. Once Chris and Malcolm had left, Thomas led her back to the stairs. Just before they started up the stairs, their attention was distracted by the sound of a chair falling to the ground in the dining room. They saw Mac leaving the dining room with the limp body of Mr. Martin over his shoulder. Gasping, Primrose snapped her eyes shut and turned towards Thomas. Thomas glared at Mac, who had been ordered, by Jon, to wait until Thomas had taken Primrose up to his suite. Mac gave Thomas an unapologetic smile before hefting the dead weight more comfortably on his shoulders and walking towards the garage. 

“Let’s get you up to the room, darling,” Thomas said, curling his arm around her shoulders in a protective manner.

~~~~~~~

It was late when Primrose finally fell asleep. Thomas had given her some privacy and time to take a shower, in the hopes it would help her relax a bit. And it did. But not nearly as much as he would have liked. She was still very skittish and tense when he returned to the room. She’d refused dessert and tea when Thomas offered. Primrose sat on the bench by the windows, huddled in a blanket she found at the foot of Thomas’s bed. Thomas tried to coax her to rest on the bed, but she didn’t even bother responding to him. It was quite a bit of work, and some small threats, to convince her to take another pill. In the end, Primrose took the pill and allowed Thomas to tuck her into his bed. He assured her he would leave her alone on the bed while he spent the night on the lounge chair. It wasn’t much later Thomas heard Primrose’s breathing even out, indicating she’d finally drifted off to sleep.

Staring at the ceiling, Thomas smiled as thoughts whirled around his head. The recent development with Malcolm’s betrayal had caused some problems. Normally, when one turns traitor within the organization, that man or woman was killed out right, after giving as much information as they could about their buyers. But Malcolm was a special case. He had managed to stay just on the fringes of the organization so he wouldn’t draw a lot of attention to his dealings within the organization, but he had also managed to make himself indispensable. Thomas, initially, had no intention of even pursuing Primrose, but then he spoke to her, and something about how she acted around him made him want her. When she was around him, she was often nervous and perhaps even a bit timid. But then she would lose herself to conversation or forget she had been anxious and she would blossom into a confident and intelligent woman. She carried herself with a elegance and strength that reminded Thomas of a graceful feline. And her eyes. Thomas smiled again thinking about her eyes and how mysterious they were. Though she couldn’t hide her emotions, there was something in her eyes that made Thomas believe she wasn’t letting on to everything she was feeling. They had a depth to them he’d only ever read about. For everything the Mona Lisa was for the enigmatic smile, Primrose’s eyes were the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, I am so excited to get all these wonderful comments! Thank you all for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Chris walked into his uncle’s townhouse with purpose. He did not speak to his uncle during the ride back from the estate. He was too busy formulating a plan. He could not trust his uncle to be of any help. The man was obviously too corrupt to be trusted. Malcolm, of course, was the reason Primrose was in this mess. Chris couldn’t really bring himself to be upset that Malcolm was involved in a crime syndicate, considering Chris had suspected his parents of being part of an Irish crime family. What really made Chris angry, however, was that Malcolm had gotten greedy, than sloppy, then caught. So Malcolm was no longer trustworthy, in Chris’s eyes. He would have to find his own way to get Primrose back. And once he did, they would have to leave London as soon as possible. Probably even England all together. These men, Jon and Thomas, were seriously dangerous and Chris had a feeling they would stop at just short of nothing to accomplish what they wanted. And if they wanted to make Malcolm pay for his greed, they’d do it. When Chris finally got his sister back, he was sure they’d come after them immediately, with the full force of the organization. Which meant Chris had to be smart. He had to not just plan how he would rescue Primrose, but how they would leave the country as well. Where would they go? How will they leave? His mind raced with questions he’d have to answer and plan for before he could even begin trying to rescue Primrose. 

Chris went straight up to his room and found a pen and notebook. 

Who can I trust?  
Where are they keeping Primrose?  
Who is guarding Primrose?  
Who is Mark Steele?  
Who is Thomas Hawthorne?  
Who is Jonathan Kingsley?  
How do we get out of the country?  
Transportation?  
New home/place to stay?  
Money?

He looked over his list several times. This wasn’t going to be an overnight scheme. Chris was going to have to spend time researching and learning. But the first concern on his list, Who can I trust, was something he had to focus on the most. He couldn’t do this alone. Unfortunately, he hadn’t made any friends in London. And even if he had, he was sure they would either be working with one of the organizations, or want nothing to do with it. 

Chris paced around his room, thinking. Who could he bring into this mess? Who could he trust with his sister’s life? He took his mobile phone out and began flicking through his contacts. 

Ah! he exclaimed to himself. In the middle of his contacts was a name he knew very well. The name of his lifelong friend. Someone he knew he could trust, not just with his life, but with his sister’s life. Ian Sheenan. 

Ian had helped the two siblings out more times than Chris could remember. They all grew up together. Even after Ian left their hometown of Wicklow to open his own pub in Arklow, he kept in touch. Came to the funeral for their parents, and even helped Chris find a job. Chris could trust Ian. He would not hesitate to jump into these muddy waters. It was no secret Ian had a bit of a crush on Primrose. Chris knew that would be the biggest draw.

Chris dialed his friend and held his breath. 

“‘Lo?” answered the familiar voice.

“Ian? It’s Chris Blake.”

“Cac naofa!” (holy shit) Ian yelled in pleasant surprise. “Chris! What’s up, man. How’ve ya been?”

“Well, I need your help, Ian.”

~~~~~~~~

Warm sunlight shining onto her face pulled Primrose out of her fitful sleep. Cracking her eyes just enough to take in her surroundings, but not enough to be blinded by the light, she saw a clock on the bedside table. It was still fairly early. Primrose rolled over and noticed she was alone in the room. Thomas was not on the lounge chair, but the pillow and blanket tossed on the floor indicated he’d at least tried to sleep there. She sat up and looked over at the bathroom door. It was open and the light was off. 

Maybe he’s getting breakfast, she thought. 

Primrose sat in the bed a few more moments trying to decide if she could fall back to sleep or if she should get up. Throwing the covers off herself, Primrose decided to take a shower. Her headache was gone, but she still felt tense. She left the bed and made her way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. 

The bedroom door slowly opened and Thomas walked in silently. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, a fitted, grey Under Armour t-shirt, a grey hooded sweatshirt and a pair of well worn running trainers. He looked to the bed as he shut the door and saw it empty. Immediately, Thomas looked towards the bathroom, finding the door shut. Approaching the bathroom door, Thomas didn’t hear water running.

“Primrose?” he asked, knocking lightly on the door. 

Inside the bathroom, Primrose froze at hearing Thomas’s voice. She was just about to start the shower when he knocked. “Yes?” she squeaked.

“Just checking, darling. Are you almost done in there?” Thomas asked.

“I just started,” she said, hesitantly.

“Oh, alright.” Thomas was used to taking a quick shower after his morning run. “Take your time.”

When Primrose heard him move away from the door, she continued with her shower. 

Thomas removed his sweaty running clothes, stripping down bare, throwing them in a hamper in the closet before pulling on a blue bathrobe. When he heard the shower go on, he turned back to the bedroom door and left. Knowing Primrose would be busy for a while, Thomas decided to head to the kitchen and start some breakfast. Benedict and Jon were drinking their morning tea in the breakfast nook, while Nick was waiting for his breakfast burrito to finish heating in the microwave. 

“When are you leaving, Thomas?” Jon asked. 

Thomas made himself a cup of tea before moving on to rummage through the pantry. “As soon as everyone is ready. I spoke with Mason and Greg last night, they said they’d be ready by mid-morning. I just need to shower and pack my things. Most of the supplies is already in the truck. Primrose’s stuff is still packed, for the most part.” Thomas cut a muffin in half and put the halves in the toaster. He set a jar of jam on the counter and put the knife next to it. He pulled a couple plates from the cabinet and set them next to the jam.

“I should be ready by eleven. I just need to bring my bag down,” Benedict said, looking at Thomas over his cup of tea.

Thomas just glared at Benedict. “Then we leave at eleven. Will you be riding with me or Mason?”

“Which Jag are you taking? The F-type or the XF?” Benedict asked. He knew Thomas would be more apt to take the sedan rather than his beloved sports car to the cottage.

Thomas removed his muffin from the toaster and spread a generous amount of jam on both sides. He put another two halves of an English muffin in the toaster. “I plan on taking the XF.” He set the first English muffin on one plate and began going through the refrigerator again.

“Then I will ride with you and Primrose,” Benedict replied.

“Where is Primrose?” Jon finally asked. 

“In the shower.” Thomas took two yogurts from the refrigerator and set them on the counter next to his food. He started making up a tray to take upstairs. When the toaster popped, he placed the two pieces on the empty plate on the tray. He grabbed a mug and poured some coffee. He grabbed a banana, an orange and an apple and set them on the tray as well. He put a jar of jam, a bottle of honey, an extra knife, two spoons, and a bowl of sugar on the tray. “We will meet you, Mason and Greg in the Grand Room at quarter to eleven. Have her tea ready when we get to the room, won’t you, Nick.” With that, he picked up his breakfast tray and took it upstairs, not waiting for Nick to answer. 

Primrose was just turning off the shower when she heard the bedroom door open and close again. She took her time drying off. She found the same robe she’d used the night before hanging on the hook behind the door and wrapped it around herself. She tied her hair up in her towel before grabbing her lotion and smoothing it on her arms, legs and face. When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she found Thomas sitting on the lounge chair sipping his tea and writing in a notebook. 

“I brought you some breakfast. It’s on the tray on the desk.” Thomas gestured with his tea cup towards the desk. “I wasn’t sure what you would want, so I just grabbed a few things. You don’t have to eat everything, but I expect you to eat something.” Thomas set his notebook down on the table next to his chair, stood up and started walking towards the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower. We will be leaving in three hours, please have yourself ready by then. And I trust you know not to leave this room until I am ready.” He gave Primrose a pointed look, and when she nodded, he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

~~~~~~~

Thomas and Primrose busied themselves with getting ready. Primrose asked Thomas twice where he was taking her, but he didn’t deign to answer. By ten o’clock, they were both ready. Thomas finally addressed the tray of food, left on the desk from breakfast.

“Half a muffin and a banana? Is that really all you’re going to eat?” He asked, giving Primrose a concerned look. “You barely ate anything at dinner last night. You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t start eating better.”

Primrose sat on the bench in front the window and looked over at Thomas. “That’s all I can stomach right now.” She went back to staring out the window. 

Thomas walked over to Primrose and knelt on the floor next to her. “Are you still not feeling well?” He asked, placing his fingers under her chin to bring her eyes to meet his. 

She pulled her face out of his gentle grasp, but remained looking at him. “My headache is gone, if that’s what you’re referring to.” 

“I see,” Thomas stood up. He knew what she was implying. He recognized this was a tense and uncomfortable situation for Primrose. It wasn’t exactly an ideal situation for him, either. He went back to the desk and collected the food tray. “Would you like some more coffee, or tea?” 

Primrose didn’t answer. She just leaned her forehead against the window glass and stared out at the garden below. She heard the soft click of the door opening, followed by the slightly louder click of the door closing. She closed her eyes when she heard the snap of the lock pushed into place. 

Sighing, Primrose began mindlessly playing with the locket Chris had given her the night before. She opened it and looked at the photos inside. She didn’t wear it much when she’d first gotten it, but after her parents died, she only ever took it off to sleep or shower. She wondered what had made her forget to put it on yesterday morning. Looking at the photos, she wondered why Chris had insisted on her having it. Looking more carefully, she noticed the corner of the photo of her parents was bent. Picking at the image, she realized something was resting behind it. Carefully, she took the photo out and found what looked like a bit of computer circuitry. Smiling, Primrose realized that Chris must have put it in there. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it made her feel a little better knowing he had insisted she have it. 

“What are you smiling at?” Thomas’s voice interrupted Primrose’s thoughts. She hadn’t heard him come back. 

Quickly, Primrose put the photo back in place within the locket before closing it and letting it rest back around her neck. “Nothing,” she said.

“What is that?” Thomas asked, slowly approaching her.

“My locket,” she stated.

Thomas stood next to where she was sitting and looked down at her. She didn’t return his gaze, but returned to looking out the window. “It’s time to go, darling.” He held out his hand to help her stand up.

“Where are we going? Why won’t you tell me?” Primrose asked softly. When she heard Thomas sigh, she looked up at him. “What will it effect if I know where I’m being taken? You took my phone. My computer isn’t here. How do you expect me to tell Chris where you’re taking me?”

She saw Thomas’s jaw tense. He was clearly considering how to answer her. “You’re right. You have no way to contact anyone. But that doesn’t mean you won’t find a way, eventually. You are a very smart woman and I have no doubt you are already trying to find a way to get out of this unfortunate situation you find yourself in. That’s why no one will tell you where we are going. Suffice it to say, we are going to my private, and very secluded, cottage. Now get up.” Thomas grabbed Primrose’s arm and firmly, but gently, pulled her to her feet. As Thomas guided her out of the room and down to the Great Room, his words began to sink in. He didn’t want her to know her exact location.

But how can he keep me from knowing it? I’ll know the direction we drive, I’ll see the town we are in. I’ll see the address when we get there. She reasoned to herself. That doesn’t make sense.

At the bottom of the stairs, Primrose was startled to see Benedict, Ewan, Nick and Jon sitting around the room. A small amount of panic began prickling in her stomach when Thomas pulled her further into the room and insisted she sit on the couch next to Benedict. The grandfather clock in the corner told Primrose it was nearly eleven o'clock. There was a coffee table in the middle of the sofa, loveseat and wingback chair. Jon had made himself quite comfortable in the chair. Thomas came to sit on the couch next to Primrose. Ewan and Nick were sitting on the loveseat. There was a teatray on the coffee table with six cups already filled, sitting on delicate saucers. 

“Miss Blake, I wish to speak with you regarding your stay with Thomas,”Jon said. He handed a cup to Benedict, who was sitting closer to him. Benedict gave it to Primrose with a smile. The other men leaned forward and took their own cups. Primrose just held her cup and waited for Jon to continue, despite everyone else taking a sip.

“Thomas and Benedict will be taking you to a very private, secluded cottage a fair distance from London,” Jon started. He noticed Primrose not drinking and gestured his cup at her. “Drink, my dear. It’s chamomile.” Jon took another sip of his tea before continuing. “You will be staying there, with them, for two weeks.”

Jon continued to drawl on about the contracts and documents Malcolm would be signing to give control of his assets and holdings to Primrose. But she wasn’t really listening. She had started drinking her tea and letting her mind wonder on when she’d see her brother again. 

“Primrose, did you hear me?” Jon asked sharply.

Primrose snapped out of her mind and looked at the bald man. “What?”

“I said, we will set up a day for you to see Chris and Malcolm again if you prove to a good girl, for Thomas and Benedict,” he said again. “If you cooperate and follow their rules, this whole situation will be so much less uncomfortable for you. Do you understand?”

Primrose lowered her eyes, staring at her half drunk tea. She noticed, with some amount of alarm, that her hands were trembling. As she tried to set her cup on the coffee table in front of her, a vicious wave of dizziness clouded her brain and her vision started going grey in the corners. Depth perception compromised, she missed the coffee table by about three inches. The tea cup clattered to the rugged floor. Primrose didn’t notice Thomas or Benedict set their cups down in a hurry. She just felt one of them grab her shoulders, keeping her from falling forward, off the couch. The strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back onto the couch. Panic began pricking through what was left of Primrose’s consciousness. Her brain felt disconnected from the rest of her body, as she tried to extricate herself from the arms holding her. 

Looking up to find out who was holding her, tears leaked from her eyes. “W-wha...” She tried to speak, but her tongue felt too thick in her mouth. She stared at Thomas as she willed her lips and tongue to work. 

“It’s just a sedative, darling. To help you sleep through our travels,” Thomas said, gently. “Just relax. Don’t fight it.”

But she couldn’t do that. She continued struggling to speak, only succeeding with small, pathetic whimpering noises. Primrose tried, feebly to extract herself from Thomas’s arms. But the more she fought, the tighter his grip became, until finally he was holding her against his chest, arms wrapped around her protectively. It was only when she became too physically exhausted that she noticed a second pair of hands holding her legs. Benedict was staring at her with a look that sent a chill of pure fear through her almost numb body. He was enjoying watching this happen to her. 

Consciousness was fading fast and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was Thomas’s cool blue eyes looking down at her.

When she finally fell still, Thomas and Benedict loosened their hold on her.

“What did you put in her tea?” Ewan asked Thomas.

“A new drug Nick’s been working on,” Thomas explained.

“It’s original purpose is for our operatives to use on targets in case of emergency. But we needed a trial run before it can be sent out.” Nick was clearly excited at the effectiveness of the drug. “It’s a tasteless, odorless powder. A small pinch and the person should be out for at least 4 hours.”

“What are the side effects?” Benedict asked. He watched as Thomas gathered Primrose in his arms and stood up. 

“As I understand it, it’ll be like having a mild hangover,” Nick said. “She might have a headache or upset stomach. Nothing severe. She might not remember the last few moments before she blacked out. If she has any other reactions, call me.”

“I will. Is everything loaded in the car?” Thomas asked. 

Benedict nodded. “Mason and Greg left at half past ten.”

Thomas nodded and began walking towards the garage. Benedict looked at Jon, nodded, then followed Thomas.

Thomas’s second Jaguar was parked in the three car garage. He walked up to the back door and waited for Benedict to open it. When the door was open, Thomas carefully slid the unconscious woman into the car. He had the car prepared after breakfast, their luggage was in the boot and a pillow and blanket were on the backseat. Thomas laid Primrose’s head gently on the pillow, then covered her up with the blanket before emerging from the car. She never even stirred. Her breathing was shallow but even, her body limply resting on her side, knees bent.

Benedict sat in the front passenger seat and waited for Thomas to slide in behind the steering wheel.


	10. Chapter 10

Chris left the house long before his uncle emerged from the master suite. He’d left a note on the refrigerator stating he was going into the city and would be back late. Malcolm didn’t think anything of it, tossing the note in the trash bin under the sink before going about making tea. He knew his nephew was angry. Angry at him. Angry at Jon and Thomas. Angry at being thrown into such a situation. Malcolm realized this was his own doing and was willing to give Chris time and space. He secretly hoped Chris was trying to come up with a way to find Primrose and free them both from falling under the watchful eye of the organization. 

Upon hearing of the predicament Chris and Primrose found themselves in, Ian took the first available flight to London. He set himself up in a quiet bed and breakfast near Heathrow Airport and a non-descript rental car. Once he had settled in, he sent his location to Chris, who promptly replied with, “Be there first thing in the morn.” And true to his word, Chris was knocking on the door to Ian’s modest room at 7 am.

“Man, am I glad to see you!” Chris said as soon as Ian shut the door behind him. 

“Yeah, of course,” Ian replied. “So, tell me, deartháir, what’s going on?” (brother)

Chris sat on the desk chair and told Ian everything. Ian sat patiently, making notes in his notebook when something occurred to him, but otherwise remained quiet until Chris was finished.

“Well, that’s quite the stoirm cac ya’ find yourselves in,” Ian said, seriously. “Is Prim safe, at least?” (shit storm)

“Yes, and no.” Chris ran his hand through his reddish blonde hair in frustration. “They claim she’ll be unharmed if Malcolm obeys their demands. But the way that Thomas guy I told ya’ about acts around her... he’s not going to let her go no matter what Malcolm does. He’s possessive of her. When he came to the house when she had her headache, I’m pretty sure he would have stayed, or insisted on taking her away if I hadn’t come home.” Chris genuinely looked concerned. Ian, on the other hand, looked annoyed and angry. Chris knew it was because of his feelings for Primrose. But Ian had never acted on those feelings due to the respect he held for Chris as a friend.

“Ok. So we need to find a way to get her away from Thomas, and get you two out of the country,” Ian said. 

Chris nodded. He pulled out his own notebook from his backpack. “I made a list.”

Chris spent the day with Ian. Between the two of them they managed to put the beginnings of a plan together by the time Chris left. It was going to take a few more days, but he was starting to feel confident they would be able to find and rescue his sister.

~~~~~~~

It was mid afternoon when Thomas pulled his Jaguar into the three car garage of his not-so modest cottage. Primrose had slept the whole three and a half hours of travel. Benedict offered to carry her into the house, but one sharp look from Thomas, and he decided to take his bag up to his own room, instead. As Benedict left the garage another man came in. He was dressed in an immaculately pressed white dress shirt, black trousers, black tie and black apron. 

“How may I assist you, Sir?” The man asked. He stood just behind Thomas, who was pulling the back door open.

“Yes, Robert, can you grab the teal baggage from the boot and take it up to my suite, please,” he asked as he ducked down into the back of the car. He pulled Primrose from the backseat, cradling her tenderly against his chest. He followed Robert out of the garage, through the mud room and kitchen and up the stairs. Robert opened the double doors of the master suite for Thomas, who walked in and delicately laid Primrose on the bed. 

The suite was large and roomy, very stately. Cream colored walls and maple wooden crown, floor and trim moulding gave the a brighter atmosphere than his suite at the Estate. The bed was king sized, platform styled with a magnificent deep grey, suede upholstered wing back headboard. Instead of a foot board, a plush bench stood at the end of the bed, matching the color and texture of the headboard. The bed sheets, pillows and comforter were rich blue tones. On either side of the bed were simple, maple wood nightstands, with a lamp and small alarm clock. French doors opened to an airy loft, overlooking the sun porch below. In the corner between the doors to the en suite bathroom and the huge walk-in closet sat an upholstered armchair in the same deep grey as the bed’s headboard. Behind the chair stood a tall task lamp. Along the walls adjacent to the chair and lamp were built-in floor to ceiling bookcases. 

While Thomas made sure Primrose would sleep off the remainder of the drug in comfort, Robert went about unpacking her suitcase. The suitcase wasn’t very full, a few blouses, a couple pairs of jeans, a pair of dress pants, a couple of dresses and some underwear. Robert dutifully hung up everything but the underwear in the closet, then set the underwear in the top two drawers of the built-in dresser. He hid the suitcase in the corner of the closet. 

“Is there anything else I can do before I return to the kitchen, Sir?” Robert asked, standing by the door.

“No, thank you, Robert. I will be down in a moment.” Thomas dismissed the man with a wave of his hand. Robert shut the door behind him as he left. With a sigh, Thomas pulled an afghan from the foot of the bed and tucked it around Primrose. He gave her a chaste, but sweet kiss on the cheek before leaving the room. There was no lock on this door, there was no need for one. Thomas walked pasted three other bedrooms before getting to the stairs. Going down the stairs, Thomas thought about Primrose. At the beginning of the week, his intentions were to simply charm and seduce her. He wanted her and he had started making plans on how to get her. Now, he had her, at least physically. He was responsible for her, she was his, now. But the situation created a barrier to her heart. Now he had to figure out a way to make this unfortunate situation work in his favor. Thomas was aware how her fragile emotional state could cause her to be more susceptible to manipulations. But he didn’t want her feelings towards him to be created through stockholm syndrome. That was the last thing he intended to happen. He wanted her to give herself to him of her own accord. He just wasn’t sure how to make that happen. 

Walking into the kitchen, Thomas found Robert making soup and sandwiches for lunch. Benedict was on the sunporch enjoying a glass of scotch while Mason was outside, walking the perimeter. Thomas looked around his elegantly designed and decorate ‘summer’ home. It was clearly not a cottage, but that’s how his family had always referred to it, and he couldn’t break himself of the habit. The exposed beams throughout the first floor level and stone fireplace gave it a sort of rustic feel, he supposed. The sunroom was all windows, looking out over his mother’s prized flower garden and the luxurious pool and hot tub. There wasn’t much in the way of a beach, but the view from the cottage of the Hamstead Heritage Coast was unrivaled. It was always a bit cooler here than in London, due to the proximity to the sea, but it also smelled much better here, and the air was much cleaner. Thomas found himself walking to the sunroom.

“Benedict, I want you to find somewhere else to be for dinner tonight. Go into the town and find a restaurant,” Thomas said, almost absentmindedly.

Benedict set his glass on the table in next to him and raise an eyebrow at Thomas. “Why?” 

“I want to have dinner with Primrose, alone. I’ll have Greg and Mason eat elsewhere in the house, but I’d prefer if you were not here,” Thomas explained. He was already planning his dinner with Primrose in his head and was too preoccupied to notice the sneer flash across Benedict’s face. “Give us tonight, from six to ten.” Thomas didn’t wait for Benedict to reply, he left the sunroom and found Robert finishing lunch.

“How can I assist you, Sir?” Robert asked. He slid a sandwich onto a plate and set the plate on a serving tray. 

“What did you have planned for dinner tonight?” Thomas asked. “Thank you,” he added as Robert handed him a plate with a sandwich and a bowl of soup. 

“I had bought a lamb roast to prepare with potatoes and carrots, with a salad to start, Sir,” Robert finished ladling soup into the other bowls. 

“I want to have a special dinner with Primrose, tonight. Just the two of us. The roast should be fine. Please have a nice rose` on ice, it’s her preference,” Thomas explained when he noticed the look Robert gave him. Robert nodded. “And set up a table on the terrace, please.” 

“Of course, Sir. Is there a special request for dessert? I hadn’t planned anything, but I have the ingredients to make chocolate fudge cake with strawberries.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” Thomas said. “Seven sharp, Robert.” He took his lunch and sat at the dinette table. He nodded to Mason as he came in and collected his lunch from Robert. Mason sat at the table with Thomas.

“You and Greg are settled in and have your security detail figured out?” Thomas asked around a bite of sandwich.

“Yes, Sir,” Mason answered. “I’ll be takin’ the day shift. Greg will take the night shift. We set up the portable cameras outside like, you asked. There’s a camera in the upstairs hallway pointin’ towards your room. And there are three down here, monitoring each possible exit. She ain’t getting outta here without someone seein’ her.” Mason did his best not to slurp his soup as he ate.

“Good. Thank you. What time does Greg come on?”

“Eight, Sir. Twelve hour shifts, eight to eight for us both.”

“I will be having a private dinner with Primrose, tonight. Robert will serve at seven, we will eat outside on the terrace. I don’t want either of you to be within eyesight during dinner. You can eat in the dining room or study. After dinner, I will be taking Primrose for a walk through the garden. We won’t need you to follow. Stay in the study and watch the cameras.” Mason nodded.

Thomas finished his meal, checking his watch. It was just after three. Primrose would be waking soon. He took his plate and bowl to the sink. Walking to the study, Thomas took his mobile from his pants pocket. Sitting at the desk, in front of his laptop, he did a few quick searches and made a few phone calls. By three-forty, he left the study to find Robert washing dishes in the kitchen. 

“Robert, what time are you going to be starting dinner?” Thomas asked.

“I will start preparing the lamb around five-thirty, Sir. Is there something I can do for you in the meantime?” Robert asked, wiping his hands on the dish towel hanging from his apron pocket.

“Would you be willing to run into Newport and pick up some items I’ve just ordered for Primrose.”

Robert checked the time on the wall clock. It was only a thirty minute drive into Newport from the cottage. “Of course, Sir.” 

Thomas handed Robert a scrap of paper with an address and his credit card. “They are expecting you. They already have the dress and the jewelry waiting behind the counter. When you get back, please bring the dress, the jewelry and a tray of peppermint tea up to my room.”

Before Robert could respond, Thomas was already walking out of the kitchen.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took some time to get published. Been dealing with some things- my husband had hip surgery, so I've been much more busy with our son while he's been recovering. I hope you are all still enjoying this story. The second arc is starting and I have a lot of ideas!
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Primrose was still sleeping soundly when Thomas entered the master suite. Unbuttoning the cuffs of his blue shirt sleeves, he rolled them up to his elbows before undoing the top couple of buttons of his shirt. He went to the bar cabinet sitting next to one of the bookcases and poured himself a tumbler of scotch. Sighing, Thomas kicked off his shoes and socks, set a book and his scotch on the bedside table and climbed carefully into the bed next to Primrose. He supported the pillows on the headboard, leaning into them restfully. He gently pulled the beautiful unconscious woman to lay on him. Tucking her head into the nook between his arm and chest, he pulled her arm across his stomach. Thomas grabbed the book from the bedside table, silently flipped open to a marked page and began reading, idly running his hand through her hair, over her shoulder and down her arm. 

Nearly twenty minutes later, Thomas felt Primrose finally start stirring. He set his book on the bedside table. He took a quick sip of his scotch before wrapping his arms firmly around the petite body lying against him. Her breathing was the first thing to change, going from shallow but even to deep and ragged. She shifted her legs, drawing one slender, smooth shin up the side of Thomas’s leg. She tried to pull her arm into her body, but Thomas gently captured her tiny wrist in his large hand and held it firmly against his chest. Primrose’s brow furrowed in panic and she let out a small gasp. Thomas watched her face, her eyes desperately trying to open. Her mouth was opening, just a little, as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t remember how. He realized she was beginning to panic. Soothingly, Thomas began tracing his fingers up and down the arm on his chest, careful not to let her pull it away. More scared whimpers and squeaks passed her dry, pink lips. 

“Shhh,” Thomas whispered. “Hush now, darling. Just breath. You’re safe. I have you now.” He continued to whisper serenely, occasionally pressing his lips into her hair tenderly. For some reason Primrose found herself responding pleasantly to the deep, velvety sound of Thomas’s voice. Her panic lessened and her breathing became less ragged. She felt weak and uneasy, despite the panic releasing it’s grip in her chest. When her eyes finally opened, she looked up to find a gentle smile playing on Thomas’s lips and his warm blue eyes looking back at her. 

A wave of anger and fear rushed through her veins. Acting on those emotions, Primrose shoved against Thomas’s chest, trying to push herself out of his embrace. With the drug’s lingering effects making her quiet weak, however, Thomas was able to keep his hold around her.

“Darling, you mustn’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself. Please, calm down. I’m not going to harm you,” Thomas whispered, trying his best to sound gentle and soothing. 

“L-let... go,” Primrose managed to stutter. Her voice was thick and her tongue felt heavy. Her limbs were numbly straining to get free from his hold. “D-don’t... t-tou-touch... m-me!” 

“Primrose, stop,” Thomas’s patiences was running thin. He held her arms more firmly by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly to his chest. 

“Y-you... d-dr-drug...” 

“Yes, I drugged you. I’m sorry about that, but I had to do it,” Thomas said, cutting her off. He watched as tears began welling in the green eyes that were desperately trying not to look at him. He waited until she wore herself out trying to fight him off. When her arms and legs finally stopped pushing against him, he could feel her body trembling with her sobs. Thomas relaxed his hold on her, running his hand through her hair in an effort to soothe her terrified state. “I’m sorry, Primrose. It was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it. But it was necessary. The effects aren’t supposed to last long. Please, try to take a deep breath and calm down.” He waited as Primrose tried to comply to his request. One shaky breath in, one shaky breath out. But she wasn’t calm - far from it. Though the panic and fear were subsiding, the anger and rage were bubbling to the surface. More tears spilled down her cheeks at the sheer betrayal of his actions. 

Her brain was becoming clearer, telling her what she should do. If she continued to fight him, he would continue to hold her, attempting to soothe her. If she made herself calm down, he’d be more likely to withdraw his attentions. Sniffing, Primrose tried to pull her hand away from Thomas’s chest. He hesitated letting go of her arm, at first, but when he saw the pleading look in her teary eyes, he pulled his hand from her arm. Primrose, still having some dexterity problems from the effects of the drug, slowly dragged her fingers over her cheeks to wipe at the trail of tears. Thomas shifted on the bed, startling Primrose. When he settled again, he held a tissue next to her hand. Primrose took the tissue, ripping it a little due to the shaking in her limbs. She wiped her eyes and cheeks again, then her nose. 

“Can I get anything for you, darling?” Thomas asked after giving her a moment to compose herself.

Not trusting her voice, Primrose just shook her head. She tried to sit up, gently moving off Thomas’s chest. To her relief, Thomas didn’t stop her and instead helped to steady her as she moved. 

“Slowly, darling,” he said. He watched her sway as she sat next to him, her hands rubbing clumsily across her face, fingertips pressing into her forehead. “Do you have a headache?”

“S-sort of,” she mumbled. 

“Like a hangover, or like one of your migraines?” 

Considering his words, Primrose bent her head and closed her eyes. “Wo-worse than... a-a hangover, n-not qu-quite a... migraine. Wha-what did y-you...” Primrose had to stop. Her own stuttering was exhausting her. 

Thomas carefully moved off the bed and walked into the en suite. He retrieved a bottle of paracetamol from the medicine cabinet. Bringing the bottle with him, he made his way over to the bar cabinet and poured a glass of water. Primrose looked up to see Thomas approaching her side of the bed. He set the glass on the bedside table, unscrewed the cap from the bottle and shook out two small pills into his hand. He held his hand out towards Primrose, who glare up at him, shaking her head. 

“You are in pain, this will help,” he said. “It’s just paracetamol, see.” He tilted his hand so she could the tiny white pills in his palm. Primrose shook her head again. She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten in frustration. “I promise, I am not trying to drug you.” He popped the two pills into his mouth, gulped some water and drank them down. He set the glass on the bedside table and looked at Primrose. “There, satisfied?”

Looking up at Thomas, tears were flowing freely from Primrose’s eyes and her lips were trembling. Sighing, Thomas sat on the bed next to Primrose intending to keep a little distance between the two. But the look in Primrose’s eyes had his resolve wavering. He moved before he was thinking, encircling Primrose in his strong arms and pulling her into a tight hug. Primrose didn’t try to push away. She was in pain and just wanted to be comforted, and didn’t care from whom it was coming. Thomas held Primrose, stroking her hair, rubbing her back and whispering soothingly. When her sobs finally settled, again, Thomas reached over to the table and grabbed the water. 

“Please, take a sip of water,” Thomas urged. He held the glass to Primrose’s lips and waited. Parting her lips, she took a hesitant sip. “There’s a good girl. How about you take a couple of those pills now?” He put the glass back on the table and shook out two more and held them out for her to take. She looked from the pills in his hand up to his pale blue eyes. “Please, darling.” Primrose fumbled with the pills, but managed to take them from his hand. She slowly put the pills on her tongue, accepting the glass of water from Thomas and swallowed the pills. Thomas put the glass back and wrapped his arms back around Primrose’s shoulders and tucked her head under his chin.

A knock on the door startled Primrose, causing her to jump and accidentally hit the top of her head against Thomas’s jaw. With a small grunt, Thomas pulled away from Primrose and gingerly touched his jaw, while Primrose rubbed her head.

“Enter,” Thomas called.

Robert walked in with a dress bag over one arm, a pink gift bag hung over his wrist and a tray balancing perfectly in his hand. He put the tray on the bench at the foot of the bed before disappearing into the giant walk in closet to hang the dress bag. When he came back into the room, he offered the pink gift bag to Thomas.

“Thank you, Robert, sit it on the chair,” Thomas instructed. “Primrose, this is my Valet, Robert. Robert, this is Primrose Blake. She will be staying with us for a while. Please see that she is comfortable while she is our guest.” 

“Yes, Sir. Good afternoon, Miss Blake,” Robert said. “Is there anything else I can get for you before I start on dinner, Sir?”

“No, that will be all, Robert, thank you,” Thomas said, dismissing him. When Robert left, Thomas turned his attention back to the woman by his side. “I asked Robert to make you some peppermint tea.” He gently helped Primrose to rest against the headboard before getting up to retrieve the tea tray. 

“Robert will be making us a nice dinner. Benedict, Mason and Greg will be gone for a few hours so you and I can be alone,” Thomas explained as he poured two cups of tea. 

“Why?” Primrose asked, nervously.

“It’s Friday, darling.” When she continued to look confused, Thomas went on. “The situation is not ideal, I agree, but that doesn’t mean I have forgotten our date.”

Primrose looked at Thomas, completely bewildered. “What?”

“We had arranged for a date tonight.” Thomas brought the two tea cups over to the bed and handed one to Primrose. Too preoccupied with Thomas’s statement, she accepted it without thinking. “Dinner will be at 7. Robert is making a roast of lamb to be served with potatoes and carrots and a chocolate fudge cake for dessert. After dinner I will walk you around the grounds and the house, so you know where you can and can not go.”

“No.” The word fell from Primrose’s lips before she realized it. 

Towering over her, Thomas arched and eyebrow, surprised at her rejection. “What?”

“I will not have dinner with you. I won’t go for some stroll with you,” Primrose said, her voice finally starting to sound clearer and more controlled. She flexed her fingers and rolled her feet, feeling the effects of the drug wearing off. She scooted to the edge of the bed and gingerly put her feet on the hardwood floor, setting the tea on the bedside table. “I’m not playing dress-up with you and pretending I’m here of my own accord.” Her anger was seeping through her words as she attempted to stand. Legs still feeling a bit weak and wobbly, Primrose could only manage to take one step before her legs gave out. Thomas quickly caught her around the waist. Primrose pushed his hands away, glaring at Thomas. “Don’t touch me.”

Thomas pursed his lips together, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Primrose knew he was annoyed with her rejection. But she didn’t care. She was angry and wasn’t going to be controlled by this man, despite the situation. 

“I’m afraid, my dear, you really don’t have a choice,” Thomas said. There was an edge of venom in his voice. He looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was after five. “I will leave you to get ready. There is a dress in the closet for you to wear. Your toiletries and cosmetics are in the bathroom. I will be back a little after six to start getting ready. If you haven’t started getting ready by then...” his voice trailed off with unsaid implications. Primrose tilted her chin in defiance, her eyes narrowed. 

What would he possibly do? She internally challenged.

Thomas struggled to keep his calm. Her defiance was impressive, considering the situation. He wasn’t sure exactly how he would convince her to have dinner with him. He certainly wasn’t prepared to threaten her if she wasn’t willing to comply. Thomas walked around the bed and grabbed his scotch off the bedside table. “You have an hour.” He didn’t look back at Primrose as he walked out of the bedroom. 

Brimming with anger, Primrose picked up the teacup from the bedside table and threw it against the bedroom door. The sound of the thin porcelain shattering against the door and the sight of the light green liquid dripping down the door, wall and pooling on the carpet was satisfying.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delayed update. I have been working with a lot of personal concerns, which have unfortunately created a bit of writers block. Hopefully, I have found my way back and will find a happy balance between real life and hobbies. I hope you are still willing to continue this story with me. This chapter isn't great and is rather short, but it was necessary to bridge a gap for the next arc of the story. 
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where have you been Chris?” Malcolm asked as his nephew walked into the foyer.

“I went for a walk,” Chris shrugged. “A lot has happened in the span of a day and I needed to think.”

Malcolm nodded. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I got you and your sister involved. I was trying my best to keep you both out of this. Hell, I was trying to find a way to keep Thomas’s interest in your sister from developing. I was planning on making up some reason why she couldn’t go out with him tonight.”

“Unfortunately, it seems Thomas can now spend as much time as he likes with Prim,” Chris grumbled. He walked into the kitchen, Malcolm followed. “You know, it doesn’t matter what we do, we can comply, we can retaliate, we could do anything and he will still have her. And he won’t be giving her back. Not by the way he looks at her.”

“I know Chris,” Malcolm said solemnly. “Thomas is a bastard. A ruthless and cold business man. But he’s not cruel. I believe he won’t hurt her. And he won’t force her to do anything.” Chris’s eyes flared at the implication of Malcolm’s words. “But you’re right. Thomas does have a possessive obsession with Primrose.” 

Chris took a beer from the refrigerator, trying to keep his anger in check. “Malcolm, I need to know who these people are. What do they do? What are they going to do to Primrose? What do you do? Prim and I have been swept up into this shite, and I have to know what this is.”

With a sigh, Malcolm walked into the living room and poured himself a tumbler of scotch from the mini bar. “The organization is legally called K.H.C. Transportation and Acquisition Holdings. They own all of the dock and wharf companies on the Isle of Dogs, most of the companies in Surrey Quays and have a heavy influence and presence in the Royal Docks. We are talking a multi-billion pound corporation. This is, of course, just their cover. Their legitimate side. They also own, through other means, numerous nightclubs, restaurants, banks, retail shops and residential properties. They own these properties so they can move very specific, very illegal goods and services. Drugs, weapons, people, animals, everything you could name. And that’s just their presence in London. Jonathan Kingsley developed the organization with his previous partners back in the 70’s. Thomas and Benedict came up in the ranks in the early 2000’s. I came in shortly after your mom left London, thirty some years ago. I already had the gallery, and it was doing just fine. They approached me and explained what they did and how I would fit in. They use my gallery to store and sell illegal art. As well as a place to hold certain events. I also own a few properties near the airports which are used to store products.” Chris had joined Malcolm in the living room. Malcolm sat in his wing-backed chair, the tumble of scotch resting idly in his hand. 

“Okay. So, who is Mark Steele and why were you selling to him?” Chris asked, taking a drink of his beer.

“Mark Steele used to work within K.H.C., though no one will talk about that. He left just after Thomas was brought on as second in command. Those two outright despise each other. He came to me with an offer. If I sell him information about shipments and goods, and sell him a few pieces off the back end. Steele wants to undermine the organization, corrupt it and set it up to blow up from the inside. It’s not just me. There are several other employees within the organization who are double dealing with Steele. I’m pretty sure Nick is, and I thought Ewan was, but I might be mistaken. Anyway, by providing him with whatever he required, he has been sending quite a bit of money through the gallery- legally. Enough that I would have been retiring next year and buying a nice villa in the south of France. But that doesn’t look like it’ll happen at this point.”

“Does Steele know K.H.C. knows about your dealings? Does he know they have Prim?” Chris asked.

“Not yet. But I was supposed to meet with James Graeme, Steele’s partner, for dinner tonight to discuss some things. I cancelled about half an hour ago. They’ll suspect something, but I’ll try to keep them from asking too many questions. If Steele and Graeme find out the organization knows my involvement, and have secured a way to keep me from doing more, they’ll retaliate.” Malcolm looked at his nephew. “If you are planning a way to get you sister back and get yourselves free of this mess, I don’t want to know about. Don’t tell me anything. I won’t ask. If you need something, resources, information, anything, I will do what I can. But I won’t directly involve myself. I hope you have people you can trust.”

Chris sat on the couch, looking at his uncle. “Understood. I need money.”

~~~~~~~~

Thomas was restlessly trying to occupy his time in his study when a knock on the door interrupted him. 

“Enter,” he growled.  
“Sir, Mr. Clarke is leaving. He wished me to tell you he was taking the Bentley to dinner. Also, it looks like it might rain tonight, Sir. Do you still wish me to set up the dinner on the terrace?” Robert asked.

Thomas rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair before answering. “Rain?” Thomas looked out the window of his study. Dark clouds were looming over the horizon. He pursed his lips together, thinking. “No. We will take dinner in the sun porch. Thank you, Robert.” 

As Robert left, Thomas considered what he was going to do. He really hadn’t considered she’d refuse to dine with him. 

“Now what?” he asked himself. He glanced at the wall clock. It was already six. With a heavy sigh, he paced around his office for a bit, considering his next actions. Her boldness in refusing him would only cause more problems the longer he allowed it to continue. Thomas knew it was her fierce independence and confidence that drew him to her, but given the new circumstances, he needed to retain his control. Suddenly, he was reminded of his visit with her earlier in the week when she was ill with a migraine. She had called her brother to rescue her from his presence. He stopped pacing, clenching his jaw in anger. Thomas was not used to being denied what he wanted. He found himself realizing, though he did not want to manipulate her into being his, he was going to have to set very specific rules and assert his control over her and the situation. 

Thomas left the study without hesitation and made his way up the stairs to his room. As he opened the door and walked in, he felt the carpet squish under his foot and heard the distinct clink of porcelain scraping against the back of the door. Inspecting the floor, he found a discolored, wet spot soaked into the carpet and behind the door was a broken tea cup. He looked around the room, but didn’t find Primrose anywhere. Closing the door behind himself, Thomas moved around the room carefully. The bed was empty, as was the loft. Noticing the bathroom door was open just a crack, and the light shining from behind it. Carefully, Thomas opened the door, finding a barely conscious Primrose laying on the floor in front of the toilet. 

“Primrose!” he gasped, kneeling next to her. Her eyes tried desperately to focus on his face, but didn’t quite manage to. “Primrose, what happened?” Thomas gently slid his hand over her face, wiping away sweat and tears. His other hand went to the shoulder she was lying on and tentatively began lifting her head and shoulders off the tiled floor. He propped her on his lap. “What happened, darling?” he asked quietly.

Primrose opened her mouth, but couldn’t find her voice. She brought a hand up to her head and rubbed it. “I... I g-got...” Primrose’s voice was weak and shaky, and Thomas was overcome with concern. He pulled her further into his lap, resting her head on his shoulders. “G-g-got diz-zz...” 

“You got dizzy? Did you get sick?” Thomas asked. She nodded. “Oh my darling, I’m so sorry.” He pushed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “Come on, I’ll get you back to the bed.” He carefully placed an arm under her knees and the other around her back, holding her close to his chest. As he stood, she groaned in discomfort, but otherwise remained still. He quickly carried her to the main room, but hesitated to put her directly on the bed. “Darling, I’m going to set you on the chair. I need to get you out of these wet clothes, get you more comfortable.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, setting her on the chaise lounger before disappearing into the closet. When Thomas came back to the lounger, with a tank top and pair of sleep shorts, he found Primrose had fallen unconscious. With a sigh, he decided to proceed with changing her clothes. It was a bit more difficult than he’d considered, but eventually he had her out of her sweaty cotton blouse and skinny jeans and resting comfortably under the duvet of his bed in the shorts and tank top. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed next to Primrose, Thomas had his cell phone to his ear, waiting for Nick to answer. 

“Hello?”

“Nick, she had a reaction to the sedative.”

“What kind of reaction?” Thomas explained what had happened, that he knew of, from the time she woke up to the time he found her on the bathroom floor. “Ok, it sounds like the remainder of the drug and the paracetamol didn’t mingle well in her system. You said she got sick, which was her body’s way of disposing of the offending stuff. Let her sleep, keep an eye on her, and call me if she gets worse. She should be better by morning.”

Thomas expressed his gratitude and hung up. “Well, this is one way to get out of dinner with me. You seem to be good at that,” Thomas mumbled as he looked down at the unconscious woman. He brushed some stray strands of her hair away from her eyes. “But tomorrow, we are going to work on a few rules and start correcting your behavior, darling.”


	13. Author's Notes

I swear to have another chapter up in a few days. I have had a lot of personal concerns creating a deep writers block, but I think I'm coming out of it. I have been working on a chapter, and though it's not great, I believe it will lead into much better things to come. Please hang in there. And thank you for your endearing support and continuation of reading this story.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is soo soo late. I had a hard time figuring out how I wanted this chapter to go, knowing how I wanted it to end and what I wanted it to lead into. Hopefully, the ending of this chapter will be enough for you lovely people to forgive my lateness.

Chapter 13

The next morning had Primrose waking up feeling like she’d been hit by a truck, several times. Despite the curtains being drawn across the loft window the soft gray light was still too bright for her liking. She felt the blackness of sleep pulling away from her, but refused to wake up fully. She continued to lay under the downy softness of the deep blue comforter, nestled against the soothing warmth of someone’s body. Primrose froze. Someone’s body? she thought. Why is there someone’s body against me? She slowly tried to pull away from the rise and fall of a chest behind her, but was soon trapped by a strong arm circling her waist and pulling her back into place. Careful not to pull away, Primrose turned onto her back so she could see the person laying beside her. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Thomas, it was his room after all. But it was still unsettling. 

Primrose looked Thomas over. He was still asleep. His face passive and calm. She’d never seen him look so serene. It was rather surreal. His usually carefully coiffed hair lay in a mess of ginger curls around his face. Thin lips were barely parted, emitting a faint snore as he breathed. Primrose looked the man over fully. He was bare from the waist up, wearing only a pair of cotton sleep pants. His long, toned arm was still resting over her waist and his hand had found its way to mould against her ribs under her arm. Primrose looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was just after 8am. She ran a hand over her face, pushing some of her hair away from her eyes. The last thing she remembered was feeling dizzy and getting sick in the bathroom. How did she end up in bed with Thomas. Primrose looked down at herself. She was wearing a black cami-tank top and the matching pj shorts. She knew for a fact she hadn’t been wearing these when she’d passed out. Had he changed her? What kind of a state had he found her in? Whatever had happened to her was his fault, so it stands to reason he should take care of her. But she was less than thrilled with the idea that he’d seen her naked. But as she shifted under his weight, again, she realized she was still wearing her bra from yesterday. So he hadn’t seen her completely naked. Thank goodness for small miracles, she thought. 

Thomas suddenly shift next to her, turning onto his stomach, he pulled his arm across Primrose’s torso. She had hoped he’d pull it completely off her, but instead he just moved it down and in, his hand running across the front of her ribs, under her breasts, making her gasp and squirm. The movement caused Thomas to stir a bit more. Primrose decided she couldn’t handle having him this close any longer and slowly slid out from under his hand, letting it fall to the mattress as she scooted to the edge of the bed. She sat up, swinging her legs over the side and immediately felt goosebumps wash over her skin from the cool air. She looked towards the loft, but the french doors were closed and the curtains were drawn. Though she couldn’t see outside, she had the feeling it was a gloomy, rainy day. As if on cue, a strobe of lightning pierced through the curtain followed closely by the roar of thunder. Primrose tried her best to keep herself from shuddering. Rain was miserable, but she didn’t mind it too much. But lightning and thunder bothered her. 

Swallowing her dread of the day to come, Primrose pushed herself carefully off the bed. She stood with one hand on the bed, making sure she was steady on her legs before she tried to walk to the bathroom. Just as she was starting to move away from the bed, a strong hand reached out and snatched her wrist, pulling her back slightly. 

“Where are you going?” Thomas growled. Primrose looked at him, clearly afraid of retaliation from the night before. “Well?” He squeezed her wrist to elicit a response from her.

Primrose pointed to the bathroom door with her free hand. “Shower,” she whispered, pleading with her eyes for him to remove his hand from her wrist. Relief flooded her and she blew out a breath when he released her wrist. She quickly stumbled away from the bed. 

He nodded. “How do you feel?” He sat up on the bed, looking at Primrose. 

“Like I was drugged, then run over by a truck. What happened last night? Why am I in different clothes?” Primrose asked, trying her hardest to reign in her anger.

Thomas shifted on the bed, swinging his legs off the other side, rubbing his face and running a hand through his hair. “The paracetamol I gave you reacted badly to the remaining sedative from the tea. When I came back to ensure you were getting ready for dinner, I found you on the bathroom floor. You were shaking and feverish, sweating through your clothes. You’d gotten violently sick. You passed out shortly after I brought you out of the bathroom, so I changed your clothes and put you in bed.” 

“Why didn’t you put me in my own bed? Surely this place has a guest room, or several,” Primrose demanded. 

“It has three other bedrooms. Just as this one is always my room, Robert has his own room. Benedict took one of the other spare rooms, and Mason and Greg are sharing the last room. So you are sharing this room with me.” Thomas pushed himself off the bed and walked around to the closet. Primrose quickly averted her eyes, trying to cover her blush at seeing his half naked, sculpted body. But Thomas still took notice and chuckled from the closet doorway. “After your shower, I will take you down to the kitchen. I’m sure Robert will have breakfast ready by then. You need to eat.” he said, disappearing further into the closet. Instead of a response, he only heard the sound of the bathroom door closing. Smiling to himself, Thomas pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a light blue long sleeve T-shirt. He set them aside and began rifling around the small section with Primrose’s clothes. Once he’d picked something from the measly selection, Thomas took his and her clothes into the bedroom. He set her clothes out on her side of the bed before turning his attention to his own clothes. 

Primrose took her time in the shower. She was still feeling a bit shaky and found the water pressure of the shower head was perfect for soothing her tense muscles. She had gone through her toiletries and found her shampoo, conditioner, face wash and body wash. It’s the little things that make all the difference in a bad situation, she thought to herself. Bad situation. What an understatement. Primrose rinsed the shampoo from her hair and sighed. Throwing that mug last night felt way too good. She wasn’t usually a girl for angry, violent outbursts, but she just couldn’t control it last night. What she really wanted to do was to give Thomas a piece of her mind, just before she pushed him over the loft railing. Imagining his face as she slammed him off the loft and hit the floor below made Primrose giggle, then sigh in frustration.

“What are you laughing about?” she heard Thomas ask.

Primrose froze. She instinctively tried to shield herself, despite the shower glass being frosted and obscured. 

“Relax, I can’t see anything. I’m not trying to peek. I just want to get washed before I get changed,” Thomas explained, sensing her discomfort.

“Can’t you wait?” she hissed.

“I’ve been waiting nearly 30 minutes,” Thomas stated calmly. Primrose heard water running in the sink, then the whir of an electric toothbrush. 

She tried very hard not to be frazzled by his presence, but seeing the rough shape of him standing near by was a very disconcerting feeling. She hurried with the rest of her shower and was about to turn off the water when she noticed he was still standing next to the sinks.

Thomas stood outside the shower, next to the sink, finding any reason he could to stay in the bathroom with her. It was true he couldn’t see anything of significance through the frosted glass, but that didn’t mean the view was terrible. He’d brushed his teeth, washed and shaved his face, combed his hair. Now he was desperate to find any other excuse to stay in the bathroom.

“Are you going to leave soon?” Primrose asked.

“What?” 

“I’m done with the shower, please leave so I can get out.”

Thomas didn’t say anything more, just left Primrose to get dried. 

Primrose finally left the en suite with a towel wrapped around her body. Thomas was sitting in his arm chair, his hand deftly tracing a pencil over a page in his sketchbook. He looked up when he heard the closet door open and saw Primrose duck inside.

“I set some clothes out for you on the bed,” he called out. Primrose peaked her head out. Looked at the bed then back at Thomas.

“You selected my clothes for today?” she asked, clearly irritated, then disappeared back into the closet. Thomas waited while she rummaged through her clothes. Towel still wrapped, tightly, around her chest, Primrose left the closet and crossed back to the en suite, clothes draped over her arms. A few minutes later she emerged, her hair still damp, but combed, wearing a navy blue, long sleeved knit jumper dress and a pair of black leggings. Stopping in front of the bed, she looked around the room.

“What are you looking for?” Thomas asked as he got up from the chair. 

“Socks, shoes or slippers. I didn’t see any in the closet.” 

Thomas looked her over, realizing she was barefoot, and smirked. “I admit, I hadn’t thought to tell Mac to pack socks or slippers. Perhaps, if you’re a good girl, I can have Robert run into town today and pick some up for you. As for your shoes, you won’t be needing them for a while, as you won’t be leaving any time soon. If the hardwood floors are too cold for you, let me know and I can loan you a pair of my socks.” Thomas stood in front of the bedroom door and held out his hand for Primrose to take. “Let’s get some breakfast, shall we.”

Primrose refused to take hold of Thomas’s hand, electing instead to push past him and open the door herself. She could hear Thomas huff behind her, but paid him no attention as she boldly walked out into the hallway. 

“This is Robert’s room. That is where Benedict is staying and that is where Mason and Greg are sleeping. This room is the laundry room.” Thomas had crept up on Primrose as she walked down the hallway. He pointed to each door as they passed. “Robert will take care of any laundry you need done, just let him know.”

“Considering I have all of four outfits, I’ll need to do laundry often,” Primrose muttered. 

“If you are a good girl, I’ll see that you get some more clothing soon.” At the top of the stairs, Thomas took Primrose’s hand and led her down to the next floor. Primrose tried to pull her hand out of his grip, but he shot her a stern look and squeezed her fingers in warning. Primrose bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grumbling something under her breath, knowing full well he would hear it.

The stairs led down to a short hallway. To the left was an immaculate entry way with a table against one wall holding a simple country basket, a black and gold lamp and a vase of wildflowers. To the right was the Great Room decorated in rustic country elegance. A plush light grey sofa and matching overstuffed chair and ottoman set were orientated around the large stone fireplace. A cherry wood coffee table sat between the sofa and fireplace. An end table between the sofa and chair holding another black and gold lamp. As Thomas pulled Primrose from the stairs into the open design of the living space, she took note of the solid oak front door just past the entryway, the large arch-topped window that spans most of the back wall of the Great Room, a wall of windows in the dinette area and the turreted sun porch just beyond that. There were no doors leading from the back of the house, just the front one, from what Primrose could see. Looking out the back wall of windows, Primrose was awestruck with the view. Behind the house was a sprawling garden of perfectly maintained grass and beautifully laid stone paths leading to a huge pool and hot tub. And in the distance, Primrose could see water flowing out to the horizon. It was a breathtaking view. 

Thomas led Primrose over to the dinette table were three place settings were set around the four-persona table. Thomas let go of Primrose and pulled out a chair for her to take. After she took her seat, Thomas sat in the seat at the head of the small table. 

“Good morning, Sir. Good morning, Miss,” Robert greeted. He walked around the kitchen island with a carafe of coffee in one hand, a glass jug of orange juice in the other and a folded newspaper under his arm. He set the juice on the table. “Coffee, Miss?” he asked after he’d poured a cup for Thomas.

“Please.” After he had filled the mug in front of her, Primrose noticed cream and sugar already waiting on the table.

“What’s on the menu this morning, Robert?” Thomas asked, accepting the newspaper.

“This morning I have eggs at request, toast, bacon, hash browns and fruit. How would you like your eggs, Sir?” Robert asked. 

“Two over-easy,” Thomas responded.

“And for you Miss?” 

“No eggs, thank you. What kind of jam do you have?”

Robert smiled kindly. “Strawberry, orange, peach and lingonberry. Is there something other than eggs I can cook up for you, Miss?”

“Peach jam, please. Do you have granola and yogurt?” Primrose asked shyly.

“Of course,” Robert replied before going back into the kitchen. 

Drinking her coffee, Primrose continued to look out the windows as Thomas read his paper. 

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” Benedict said as he sat himself in front of the third place setting. Primrose hadn’t been paying any attention and jumped when he’d spoken. Glancing quickly at him, she only nodded. 

“Benedict, I was wondering when you’d be gracing us with your presence,” Thomas said in a bored voice. He flipped a page in his paper. “I trust you found your room to your liking?”

“It’s small, but adequate. How was your dinner with our lovely guest?” Benedict turned his attention quickly to Robert, who was bringing the coffee to fill the mugs. “Two over-hard eggs, Robert.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Dinner didn’t work out as well as I’d hoped. Perhaps we will try again this evening,” Thomas stated.

Primrose shot Thomas a questioning look, but he was too busy reading his paper to notice. Probably for the better. But Benedict noticed, and smirked openly at her. 

Breakfast was a fairly quiet affair. Thomas and Benedict didn’t seem interested in small talk, not that Primrose found herself bursting with conversation. But the silence felt awkward to her. There was an obvious tension in the room, but she couldn’t decide where is was coming from. She would catch an occasional glimpse of one or both men looking at her, but neither seemed willing to talk while the other was present. 

“Well, Thomas, I hope you’re not expecting me to leave again so the two of you can have your quaint little dinner date. The weather is supposed to be like this all day and I have no intention of trying to find another dull restaurant tonight. I’d much rather stay and enjoy some of Robert’s cooking and the company of our guest,” Benedict finally said. He had finished his breakfast and was wiping at the corners of his mouth. 

“I expected as much, Benedict,” Thomas responded, finally putting the newspaper aside. He sipped his coffee, looking at the the other man. “I intend to take Primrose around the grounds and show her where she can and cannot wander, and explain the rules. I assume you’ll insist on joining us?”

“Naturally.” Benedict stood from his chair. “I’ll get my shoes.”

“That’s not necessary.” Thomas looked over at Primrose, who had been watching the cold exchange between the two colleagues. It was clear she wasn’t happy about the way they were discussing her as if she weren’t present, but she wasn’t willing to step in and say anything, yet. “Being allowed outside is a privilege to be earned. As Jon stated yesterday, you will be with us here for two weeks. If at the end of the first week you have been a good girl and obeyed the rules, I will allow a certain amount of time for you to spend outside. Starting today, you are allowed full access to my room, the kitchen, the sun porch and the great room. If, for some reason, you wish to have access to the entryway, dining room or the mud room, either Benedict or myself must be within eye sight of you. No matter where you are or where you are going within this house, you must inform either myself or Benedict. If, for whatever reason, neither of us is around, you will tell Robert. Understand?” Primrose nodded. “Words, darling. Use your words.” 

“Yes, I understand,” she grumbled.

“Good. Now, the other three bedrooms, their bathrooms, my study and the garage are strictly off limit, barring any unforeseen disaster or catastrophe.”

“Where’s the study and garage?” Primrose interrupted.

“I will take you for a tour soon enough. Don’t interrupt,” Thomas scolded. “From now on, if I tell you to do something, you will do it without a fuss. No back talk. No sass. No negotiations. I will have your full cooperation and obedience or there will be consequences.”

Primrose clearly bristled upon Thomas’s statement. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and scowl crease her brow. Thomas smirked, reveling in this reaction. He knew she was far too strong willed and stubborn to willingly submit to him. Especially under such circumstances. He found himself looking forward to playing the villain to her damsel. But a quick, sidelong glance at Benedict told him he wasn’t the only one. Benedict and Thomas had always been friendly competitors of each other. But usually only when it came to work within the organization. And when Thomas started expressing interest in Malcolm’s young niece, Benedict never showed any sign he’d also been smitten by her. Not until Thomas proposed the plot to use her against Malcolm. Thomas had been up front with Jon and the others about his desire for the woman, and though Jon demanded Thomas remain professional while hosting their guest. Thomas had other plans. But with Benedict showing his own desires, Thomas found himself both jealous and possessive. 

“Are you finished with your breakfast?” Thomas asked Primrose. She just nodded. “I’ll show you around.” He stood up and walked to the back of the chair Primrose was sitting in. As she stood, he gently wrapped his long fingers around her hand. With Benedict on their heels, Thomas lead Primrose around the house, pointing out each room, repeating whether or not she had access to them. Upon returning to his room, he pulled Primrose through the doors before shutting them, leaving Benedict, unwanted, in the hallway.

“If Benedict tells you to do something, you will come to me for verification, understood?” Thomas growled. He dropped Primrose’s hand, leaving her to stand in bewilderment in the middle of the room. 

“I thought I was to do as either of you say,” she states, venomously. 

“You are to do as I say,” Thomas snapped. Primrose took a step back when he looked at her. He was aggravated and angry and Primrose wasn’t sure why. “You are mine. He may want you, but he can’t have you.” Primrose was shock still. She couldn’t fathom what had brought his on, or why Thomas was acting in such a manner. He had flirted with her, been a bit domineering and maybe a tad possessive in some ways, but she hadn’t considered he’d ever act like this. Of course, she never thought he’d have kidnapped her and hold her in an unknown location against her will. It suddenly dawned on Primrose that she had no idea who Thomas Hawthorne was, what he was capable of or what he would do if he felt his claim on something- or in this case someone- was threatened. This realization sent a shiver down her spine and caused her to take another involuntary step away from Thomas. 

But Thomas was undeterred. He had confessed his desire and claim and as he stalked towards Primrose he decided he’d prove his desire and claim on her. He smirked wolfishly, watching her back further away from him. His movements were slow and controlled, despite the wild look in his striking blue eyes. Primrose was so distracted with the look in his eyes and the words he’d spoken, she hadn’t noticed he’d managed to back her into the wall next to the closet door until it was too late. As her back and head bumped roughly into the wall behind her, Primrose found Thomas looming only a few inches from her. He placed one hand on the wall next to her head and the other came up to caress her cheek. The ticklish feeling of his fingertips running lightly over her cheek brought Primrose back to her senses. She put her hands on Thomas’s chest and tried to shove him away, but he would not budge. 

“You belong to me,” Thomas whispered against her lips. He curled his fingers in her hair, crashing his lips greedily against hers in a possessive and dominant kiss.


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this has taken so long to update. Between one kid being three, being pregnant and having our second kid, and a lot of changes in my personal and professional life, writing had to take a backseat to life. But I am back. I am inspired to write again. And I give you the next chapter! It's a bit long, but I hope you like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 14

Primrose was frozen. She couldn’t begin to comprehend what was happening. She stood against the wall, eyes wide in shock and fear, staring at Thomas who was kissing her with a desperate hunger. Her hands were still pushing, clumsily, against his chest, but the shock of the situation had knocked a great deal of fight out of her. It wasn’t until Primrose whimpered with the need to breathe that Thomas finally pulled away, but only by a few inches. He looked down at the utterly stunned and rather offended looking woman he had pinned to the wall. Primrose noticed his eyes were almost completely dilated and gleamed with wicked intent. Both were panting slightly, but where Thomas looked eager to continue his pursuit, Primrose was beginning to look more and more enraged. 

Thomas leaned in to kiss her again, but was promptly smacked. A hand collided, hard, with his cheek and sent his head snapping to the side. As he pulled himself away from her further, Primrose’s anger and indignation bubbled over. Taking advantage of his stunned state, she pushed herself off the wall, thrusting her hands into Thomas’s chest, sending him stumbling back several steps. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Primrose exclaimed, her accent thickening with her rage. Before she knew what she was doing, she launched herself at Thomas, aiming a punch at his jaw. Thomas, however, had recovered from his initial bewilderment, catching Primrose’s wrist as she lunged forward to connect her fist to his face. He used her momentum to twirl her around and pull her back against his chest. Wrapping his arms around her, keeping her wrist in his hand, Thomas pinned Primrose against himself. But Primrose wasn’t about to give up. As she tried twisting her torso and arms out of Thomas’s hold, he leaned his face down to be closer to her ear. She could feel his breath against the back of her head. Thrusting her head back as hard and fast as she could, she felt it connect with Thomas’s chin. Thomas recoiled, letting Primrose go instantly. 

Primrose ran to the other side of the room as soon as she felt Thomas let go. From the other side of the bed, she watched Thomas recover from her assault. He gingerly massaged his chin, his eyes fixated on the woman on the other side of his room. A knock at the door and the voice of Robert calling for Thomas clearly interrupted his contemplation's of the situation.

“Enter,” Thomas called, doing his best to sound calm.

Robert walked into the room, noticed his employers disposition and waited for Thomas to prompt him to speak. 

Thomas closed his eyes and took a couple breaths to calm himself before waving Robert on to speak.

“Sir, Mr. Kingsley attempted to call your mobile while you were...” Robert looked from Thomas to the distressed looking Primrose. “Entertaining your guest. He said it was urgent and that you need to call him back immediately.”

Thomas sighed. “I’ll be down in a moment. Thank you, Robert.” 

Robert nodded his head before leaving the room. Primrose saw the tension in Thomas’s shoulders when he turned towards her. 

“We will continue this... discussion when I’m finished. You know the rules and where you are allowed to go. Robert will serve lunch in the kitchen at half past twelve.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, he turned to the door and walked out, leaving Primrose standing against the wall on the other side of the bed.

When she couldn’t hear his footsteps any more, she released a shaky breath and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Anger and fear fought to be the dominant emotion, both gripping her heart and clouding her mind. She thought her situation was terrible before but now with Thomas’s revelation, things were looking worse. Feeling as if she needed to do something, Primrose pushed off the ground. Anger fueling her actions, she stormed to the bedroom door and jerked it open. She half expected it to be locked like the one at the Estate, but was both pleased, and startled to find it open. Looking around the hallway before leaving the room, she quietly hedged down the hall towards the stairs. The door to the room Thomas had indicated was Benedict’s was open. She crept past, trying to avoid detection should he be inside. But as she cleared the opening, she found the room empty. One room down, one more to get past. She knew Robert’s room would be closed and empty, being the butler to someone like Thomas, she assumed he’d be kept busy for the majority of the day. The last door she had to get past was the room shared by the goons, Mason and Greg. She’d heard Thomas and Benedict discussing the security arrangements during breakfast. One of the men would be sleeping in the room during the day while the other patrolled. At eight at night, they would switch. The door was shut as she passed by and stood at the top of the stairs. She tried to remember the layout of the ground floor. Once down the stairs, she was going to have to move quickly if she wanted to get outside before anyone caught her. Mentally mapping out the ground floor, she knew the entryway was to the left of the stairs. The study and the formal dining room were off the entryway. The front door was past the study. And considering Thomas was pulled away from his pursuits by his boss calling, Primrose was sure he’d be in his study. That took the front door out of consideration. The stairs lead into the openness of the rest of the floor. Great room, dinette and kitchen all within line of sight of the stairs. If Benedict, Robert or one of the goons was anywhere down there, they’d see her coming down. 

Primrose chewed on her bottom lip as she thought. There was no way to get out of the house from this floor. Which occurred to her was a design flaw in regards to safety. There must be a way out if an emergency were to arise. A fire, or armed trespasser. Perhaps one of the other rooms had some sort of emergency escape route. Primrose shook her head. She was getting off track. There was a glass door leading from the dinette area to the back garden. But the whole expanse of wall in the Great Room was floor to ceiling windows. And the sun porch was a turret of windows as well. If she managed to get downstairs without anyone noticing her, they certainly would as she ran past all the windows. Her mind came back to the front door. If Thomas was on a call with Jon, would he leave the study door open? What would she do if the door was open and he saw her go by. Could she play it off like she was looking for him? She always had a knack for being able to talk her way out of tight spots, often talking circles around her brother and her teachers. But Thomas? What would he do to her if he thought she was trying to escape?

So many questions. Too many unknown variables. But did she really have a choice? Could she really just stay put and pretend everything was fine? That she was okay in this house with the likes of Thomas and Benedict? Primrose realized she owed it to herself to at least attempt to get away. She knew they wouldn’t kill her. And it wasn’t as if she had a whole lot of freedoms or items they could take away from her in punishment. The worst consequence could really only be limiting her current privileges. But what if they retaliated against her brother? Or uncle? Would Thomas really do that? Of course, if she were caught, she doubted they’d admit she’d gotten as far as she did. But if she found a way to get away, she could also find a way to contact her family and warn them. 

The idea of talking to Chris again settled the questions in her mind. She had to at least try to get away. 

Quietly, Primrose crept down the stairs. On the landing, she peered around the corner out into the openness of the floor below. Through the railing, she could see the Great Room was empty. Taking the first step, she could see no one in the dinette or kitchen. Two more stairs and she could see Robert with his back to the stairs, unloading groceries into the pantry. If someone was in the sun porch, they wouldn’t be able to see her come down the stairs, or go out the front door. Keeping an eye on Robert and an ear listening for Thomas in his study, Primrose continued sneaking down the stairs, rounded the corner and padded into the entryway. No one was in the dining room. And the study door was closed. Asking the Gods to be on her side and not just setting her up to get caught this early in the attempt, she quickly trotted over to the front door. Which she found unlocked. Mentally thanking the powers that be for her fortune, she tested the door. Pulling it open, she cringed when it creaked and groaned. Holding her breath, she glanced behind her, to find no one had come looking for the source of the sound. Exhaling, she squeezed herself out of the partially opened door and almost felt giddy at seeing the outside world. 

Holding herself close to the house, after noticing the window from the study overlooking the porch she was now on. The curtains were pulled to the side and the blinds were open, so depending on where Thomas was seated, he might see her if she pulled away from the wall. Easing the door closed next to her, Primrose took in her surroundings. A generously sized, perfectly maintained lawn stretched out on all sides of the house. The porch descended three steps to a sidewalk that curved around, in front of the dining room window and joined the over sized driveway. There was nothing immediately in front of the house Primrose could use as cover to avoid being seen. Not for several meters. The driveway eventually tapered into a curved single lane drive that wound its way into a wooded area. That was her best option. If she wasn’t caught before getting to the trees, she’d be in a much better situation. She could cautiously follow the drive through the trees, knowing it would have to come out on a road of some sort, eventually. 

Though it had stopped raining, the sky was still grey and the wind was still wild. The ground was wet and Primrose noticed a big mistake on her part. She was still bare foot. And it was rather chilly outside. 

“Fuck,” she groaned, quietly. Taking a deep breath, Primrose steeled herself against the conditions facing her and pressed herself against the wall. Continuing to hug the stone wall of the front of the house, she skirted across the porch to one of the decorative pillars and hid on the opposite side from the study window. The cement under her feet was cold, but the idea of freedom was a powerful incentive to ignore the uncomfortable sensations. Peeking around the pillar, she glanced in the dining room window to verify no one had started sitting in there. When she felt the coast was clear, Primrose dashed across the pavement in front of the dining room window over to the front of the garage. Again, keeping herself pressed against the garage doors and wall, she hurried over to the far corner of the garage. Peering around the side of the house and around the grounds, she didn’t see any sign of the goon or Benedict. Taking another steadying breath, she flew across the lawn as fast as her cold feet could carry her, finding sanctuary within the small thicket of trees at the edge of the green lawn. 

~~~~~~~

Thomas was anxiously listening to Jon, sitting in his black leather, executive desk chair, staring at the computer monitor in front of him but not really paying it any attention. His body was sitting agitatedly in the study, but his mind was wandering up the stairs and back into his room. Was Primrose still in it? Was she sitting on his bed, or perhaps on his lounger by the window? Maybe she had gathered her wits and made her way downstairs to sit in the Great Room or the sun porch. Though he has a television hanging on the wall between the windows and the fireplace, he didn’t bother with cable or satellite services. He had an extensive film collection, but doubted very much she’d try setting all that up on her own. Maybe she found a book in his room and is reading somewhere in the house. He wondered what kinds of books she’d enjoy reading? 

“Thomas are you even listening? This could be a serious problem,” Jon snapped over the computer. 

Thomas sighed before taking a sip of his tea, allowing him a few seconds to bring his thoughts back to the call. “When did Ewan say this man came to the gallery?”

“He showed up this morning, according to Ewan,” Jon explained. 

“I’m not familiar with the name. O’Shea, you said. Irish? And he was asking about Chris. Asking who about Chris?” 

“He came into the gallery and first started talking to Vanessa, just asking if Chris worked there and when he’d be in,” Ewan chimed in. The computer screen showed Jon then the wall and finally came to find Ewan. Presumably, Ewan was sitting on the other side of the desk in Jon’s office. “Malcolm and I were just arriving at the gallery when we overheard him ask Vanessa to call when Chris showed up. We asked why he was looking for Chris. He said that was between him and Chris and walked out, after leaving his card on the reception desk.” Ewan reached over the desk to pick up said card, having placed it there upon arriving an hour earlier. “Ian O’Shea, Tech and Manufacturing Executive. O’Shea Corporation and Holdings, Eastern Region. The address is for a port and warehouse district in Wicklow, Ireland.”

“Wicklow? That’s where the Blake's are from,” Thomas said. He’d been in the business of illegal trades and transactions long enough to be able to spot a fake business card. O’Shea’s card held just enough information as to not draw attention, but was also vague enough as to not blow the siren to say ‘Shady Business Man’. So who was this man and what was he doing in London looking for Chris? 

“Ewan is going to go back to the gallery just before close to speak with Malcolm and Chris about who this new player is and what his motives are. I want you to speak with Primrose and see if she knows anything. Report back this evening.” Jon had moved the webcam back to face him. He regarded his second in command for a moment before continuing. “How is Primrose enduring the situation?”

“As well as can be expected. She’s feeling better from last night’s side effects.” A knock on the door had Thomas excusing himself from the call. 

Mason was standing outside the door, looking frantic and angry. 

“What is it?” Thomas demanded in a low tone.

“She’s run off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is what Thomas's cottage looks like:  
> http://www.eplans.com/house-plans/epl/styles/european-homes-and-house-plans/hwepl67178.html
> 
> In fact, here are all the houses for this story:  
> The Estate- http://www.eplans.com/house-plans/epl/styles/neoclassical-house-plans/italianate-house-plans/hwepl05306.html
> 
> Malcolm's house- http://www.eplans.com/house-plans/epl/styles/victorian-house-plans-and-homes/hwepl64570.html


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient, hopefully this chapter is alright. It's not great. I have to get through a couple of just Ok chapters to get to some good stuff I have planned. But I do have good stuff coming!

“What do you mean she’s run off?” Thomas growled.

Mason grimaced as he explained. “Mr. Clarke asked me to help him set up the camera feeds on his laptop. When I got everything set up, we saw the girl running down from the house to the grove.”

Thomas pursed his lips into a thin line of annoyance. He had figured Primrose might try to escape at some point, but he also figured they’d catch her before she actually made it outside. “How long has she been outside?” 

“As soon as I saw the camera feed, I came here,” Mason hastily explained. 

Before Thomas could decide on a course of action, his thoughts were interrupted by a rumble of thunder. He looked out the window and saw black clouds rolling in from the west. Rain had already started coming down, but so far it was just a light drizzle. “We need to find her before the weather gets worse. Take the Jeep and drive towards the road. Ben and I will go on foot.”

Mason nodded, leaving Thomas to figure out what to say to Jon and Ewan. If they thought his emotional attachment to Primrose was causing problems with their plans, allowing her more freedom than she should have, they’d pull her from his care and place her with Ben back in the city. And he’d be damned if Ben would get her. She was his, and he had every intention of keeping it that way.

“Is there a problem?” Jon asked when Thomas reappeared in front of the computer monitor.

“Nothing major. A storm is coming in and, apparently, Primrose doesn’t do well with storms. She has locked herself in the master bedroom’s en suite and refuses to come out for lunch,” Thomas lied smoothly. 

“Very well. Go take care of your guest. Be sure to ask her about O’Shea and report back tonight with your findings. If the siblings had illegal dealings with anyone in Ireland before leaving, we need to know about it straight away. We can’t afford any more surprises.” 

Thomas nodded before closing out of the video conference. He quickly left his study to find Robert and Ben donning rain gear in the mud room. He quickly grabbed a raincoat, gloves and an umbrella for himself. As they went into the garage, he saw Mason making it’s way down the driveway in the Jeep. Robert set a stack of towels on the workbench near the door as the three men walked out into the rain.

“I’ll make my way through the grove to the west of the drive, Ben, go east. Robert, please stay around the house in case she slips back here,” Thomas instructed.

 

~~~~~~~~

Primrose knew better than to exhaust herself by sprinting through the thicket of the trees and brush. It was rather obvious Thomas’s house was several miles from a neighbor, let alone a town of any kind. If she wanted to find help, she had to pace herself, stay focused and stay alert. Mud and muck had already started caking on her feet and ankles. Her leggings were getting filthy and wet up to her knees. There were some small snags and tears in her sweater jumper around her arms and the hem. A collection of scratches, nicks and cuts were growing on her bare feet. But she pushed past the cold and the pain and fought against the tears straining in her eyes. 

Stopping just long enough to pick a rock from between her toes, Primrose heard a car coming slowly down the private road off to her left. Quickly she ducked behind a tree and waited for it to pass. She peeked around the trunk and watched the Jeep drive by. It was the goon. He was driving very slow, swiveling his head back and forth, looking for her. 

_ They noticed I’m gone, _ she thought to herself. Now she knew she had to keep going. To ignore everything her body was trying to tell her and put as much distance as she could between herself and the house. If she could just get to a main thoroughfare road, she could flag someone down and get help. She kept the idea and hope of escape at the front of her mind as she continued her way through the trees. She could not let her mind dwell on what Thomas would do to her if he caught her. 

 

~~~~~~~

Thomas was fuming. This was not what he’d wanted to do today. Tromping around in the mud and rain, looking for his Primrose. He’d be having some words with Mason and Greg when they returned to the house. Clearly, further security measures were needed to keep the woman in line. And proper discipline. Despite the cold and the rain, Thomas suddenly found himself feeling a bit hot at the thought of punishing Primrose for trying to escape. It was a rather serious infraction, and there were so many ways he could punish such disobedience. The possibilities seemed endless as they ran wickedly through his mind. But first he would have to catch her. 

There were obvious tracks in the mud leading away from the house, further through the thicket of trees. In a couple of places, Thomas found snags of thread and fabric from the sweater and leggings he knew Primrose to be wearing. It wasn’t long before he found a spot where he figured she must have tried to hide behind a tree. Knowing she wasn’t too far ahead of him, and in which direction she was traveling, Thomas pulled out his phone to ring Mason in the Jeep.

“She’s heading south-west from the house, towards the ravine. Take the Jeep that way and meet me at the water’s edge. She won’t be able to cross with all the rain we’ve had so she’ll like start down the road looking for the bridge.”

Thomas picked up his pace and continued to follow the muddy path.

Coming to the edge of the thicket of trees, Thomas could see the muddy footprints he’d been following running west along the two lane road that made up the bank of a ravine. The area was cleared of trees and brush around the road and water, so he could easily spot Primrose sprinting away. He could tell by the way she was running she was injured in some way, and she was obviously cold. Feeling like a lion hunting his dinner, Thomas used his long distance running training to catch up to her quickly. She caught sight of him in her peripheria, and tried to lung ahead, only to be knocked off balance when Thomas grabbed for her arm. She stumbled and wobbled on her cold, exhausted, strained legs, but to his surprise she didn’t fall. She did, however, slow down in an effort to regain her balance, which gave Thomas the upper hand. He caught up to her again, and managed to wrap his hand around her arm, stopping her from running any more. He’d caught his gazelle. 

Primrose wasn’t about to give in, however. Despite being cold and in pain, she fought against the man who’d captured her. She swung around with a hard fist aimed for his face, but Thomas was prepared for the fight and grabbed her wrist before her hand could make contact. He used his size advantage against her, pinning her arms across her abdomen as he spun her around to face away from him. With her arms now useless, she tried kicking her legs at his, but he remembered her fighting style from earlier in the day and maneuvered his own legs to disrupt her struggles. Before she could smash her head back against his face, Thomas anchored one arm around her to keep her arms pinned and brought his free hand up to snare her tangled mess of hair. 

“Enough!” he yelled. He roughly jerked her head back so it rested, uneasily, against his shoulder. The hold he had in her hair caused her neck to stretch back uncomfortably, forcing her to stop her fighting and look up at him. He felt Primrose panting hard against his hold on her, and could see the puffs of breath in the cool air. He looked down at her, noticing a few thin cuts on her left cheek. Her face was streaked with sweat and tears. She was shaking, but Thomas couldn’t tell if it was from fear, anger or the cold. Probably a mixture of all three. And possibly pain. 

Primrose tried to control her trembling and breathing. She was not about to give in to her fear and anger. Not in front of this man. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Tears may be streaming down her face, but she wouldn’t give in. She grit her teeth against the cold. Her feet were freezing and stinging from various cuts and bruises. Primrose stared up into the menacing blue eyes of Thomas as he held her in a bruising grip. It had started raining harder and they were both drenched.

Thomas only broke eye contact when the Jeep, with Mason and Ben, rolled up next to them on the road. He glared at Mason, who should have arrived at the same time as he had. He let go of Primrose’s hair, but kept his hold around her torso as he pulled her towards the backseat of the car. Opening the door with his free hand, Thomas shoved Primrose forward, into the back seat.

“In!” he snarled angrily. Once Primrose was in and sliding across the backseat, he got in and shut the door. “Where were you?” he demanded of Mason. 

“He was picking me up,” Ben explained. “I had called to get an update and he said you’d found her. I figured there was no more reason for me to be out in this atrocious weather so I had him stop for me.”

Thomas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “Back to the house. We need to get cleaned up.”

Mason parked the Jeep in it’s spot inside the garage and got out to retrieve towels for Thomas from the stack Robert had set out. Robert, who had been waiting inside the garage for the others to get back, came around to Primrose’s side of the car and opened the door for her, towel in hand. He gently pulled a shivering Primrose from the backseat, wrapping the towel around her shoulders. As he was about the shut the car door, the sight of something red on the floor mat caught Robert’s eye. There was a mixture of blood and mud on the floor mat. Robert scanned Primrose from head to toe with sharp eyes, taking in the small cuts and scratches, finally coming to see smears of blood around her feet on the cement floor.

“Sir, she’s bleeding,” Robert announced. He gently led her to lean against the car and crouched down in front of her. He carefully picked up one foot and began wiping away the mud and muck. She flinched and tried to pull her foot away, but he held it firmly. Once the thick layer of filth was removed, Robert found dozens of cuts, some deep, some shallow, some long, some short, littering the bottom of her foot. By the time he’d cleaned her other foot, Thomas had appeared and was crouched down with him, examining her feet. 

Standing up, Thomas swept Primrose off her feet, cradling her in his arms. He ignored her protests against him carrying her, taking her inside. Robert was following close behind. Once upstairs, Robert opened Thomas’s bedroom door and went straight for the en suite while Thomas carried her in and set her on the tile edge of the bathtub. 

“Thank you, Robert, that will be all,” Thomas said, tersely. Robert didn’t bother saying anything. He knew that tone and knew Thomas was working very hard to reign in his temper. If he feared for Primrose’s life, he’d have stayed, but he knew his employer well enough to know Thomas would not seriously harm the girl. But she would suffer consequences for her actions. As Robert left the master suite, he wondered how long the poor girl would be off her feet, and if Thomas would take her condition into consideration when devising her punishment.

Thomas didn’t bother speaking to Primrose. He just left her sitting there to start the water running in the tub. He placed the stopper over the drain before walking over to the medicine cabinet and finding a first aide kit.

“Undress and get in the tub,” Thomas demanded. He brought the first aide kit over to the sink counter and opened it. He placed gauze, medical tape, bandages, antibacterial ointment and tweezers on the counter before turning his full attention back to the shivering, angry looking young woman sitting next to the tub. She hadn’t moved to start removing her torn and dirty dress and was instead, glaring daggers at him. 

“I won’t tell you again,” Thomas growled with barely contained anger. 

“Go to hell,” Primrose said, far too calmly. 

Thomas pursed his lips into a thin line. With a sigh, he walked over to stand in front of Primrose. “Very well. I did warn you this morning, darling.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet, causing her to yelp in shock and pain when her bare, wounded feet hit the tiled floor. While still holding her arm to keep her standing, Thomas reached down and grabbed the ripped bottom of Primrose’s sweater dress and yanked it up. She tried to swat his hand off her dress and pull it back down, but he was driven by anger. The dress ripped more with her struggles and his determination to remove it from her body. Finally, he let go of her arm and pulled the tattered remains of the dress over her head. Primrose went to sit down again, feeling the angry gaze of Thomas’s blue eyes staring down at her. But he stopped her with a single tug on her arm. “Don’t move until I say otherwise.” 

Though she was loathed to obey him, the expression on Thomas’s face left little room to argue. She stood in her wet, ripped leggings and white bra. Suddenly feeling self-conscious under his stare, Primrose wrapped her arms around her chest to obscure his view, shifting her weight from injured foot to injured foot. Thomas threw her ruined dress on the floor next to the hamper before turning off the water. Moving to stand in front of Primrose again, he smiled wolfishly down at her, causing her glare to grow angrier and darker.

“You know, darling,” he said, gently running his hands from her shoulders, down her arms and sides, to rest them on her hips, at the top of her leggings. “This is not how I imagined undressing you for the first time.” As he spoke in a soft, lustful purr, his dexterous thumbs slipped under the band of her leggings. Before she could stop him, Thomas was shoving the ruined article of clothing down her legs to pool at her feet. Primrose tried to push him away at the same time she tried to step away from him, only to stumble from the clothing around her feet and fall back onto the ledge of the tub. Thomas pulled the leggings free from her feet before straightening again. 

“Don’t even think about it!” she hissed when his dark eyes roamed the rest of her body. Thomas pursed his lips. Under any other circumstance, he might have tried something more lecherous, however, he reminded himself she was injured. And he was still hoping to truly seduce her, rather than force her. It would be more enjoyable for both parties with both of them willing participants, and since he wasn’t interested in a short, meaningless fling, her being willing would mean he’d keep her longer. 

Without any notice, Thomas scooped Primrose into his arms and half dumped, half placed her, still in her underwear, into the hot water. “Do not move.” he ordered. Then he stepped back and began peeling off his own clothes. He removed everything but his boxers, knowing Primrose would become very angry and possibly aggressive if he were to be completely naked. He shot one last angry look at Primrose before turning to the shower. Once he had the shower running, he grabbed a towel and set it on the hook just outside the frosted glass doors. 

“Do not get out of that tub without my help. You’ve injured your feet pretty bad, we don’t want further damage, do we. Clean yourself, I’ll be out in a minute.” With that, he slipped his boxers off and ducked into the shower stall.

Primrose was seething. A part of her knew she wouldn’t actually get away. But she had to try. The fact that Thomas, Mason and Benedict had all been out looking for her, and that Thomas had caught up to her so quickly made her realize, they probably expected her to run at some point. But she was caught, again. And this time, things would be worse. Thomas was just as angry at her as she was at him. But she was in no position to act on her anger, and he was. She was in his dominion. Under his authority. And there was no doubt in her mind Thomas was standing in that shower, considering all his options. Her punishment for attempting to flee was eminent. And suddenly, she felt very vulnerable and helpless. Not only had she been caught, but she’d injured herself in her attempted escape. Her feet were so torn up, there was no way she could run again. She’d be lucky if she could manage to walk from the bathroom to the bed without crying in pain. And it wasn’t just her feet. Her whole body was screaming at her. Slowly, she took a washcloth from the side of the tub and gently massaged it over her abused skin. Bruises, cuts and scrapes were surfacing, once all the muck and grime from the woods was removed. Carefully, she began cleaning off her feet, swallowing a few yelps when she’d discover a rather angry cut. 

Thomas stood in the shower stall, hands bracing himself against the wall while the hot water sprayed down on his cold skin and aching muscles. He had expected her to run. But assumed they’d catch her much faster than they had. She’s more cunning than he gave her credit for. That was an error on his part. Blinded by a pretty face, he didn’t recognize the brains behind it. Not fully, anyway. But now he knew. She was much more then she appeared, and that aroused his interest in her even more. Taking a deep breath, Thomas tried to remain focused on his next actions. Primrose had proven to be more difficult than he considered. It was clear she couldn’t be left alone, anymore. And she had to be punished. He just had to figure out the most appropriate way to administer it. Something that would break through her stubbornness. Something that would crack her shell enough for him to push through and expose her vulnerability. His lack of control over her was starting to drive him crazy. What would break her? Just a little. Just enough.

Thinking about what he knew of Primrose, a thought occurred to him. She shied away from his physical attentions, was bothered by having to share a bed with him and terrified at him being in the bathroom while she was in the shower. Smiling, Thomas realized the best punishment would be of a more intimate kind. Licking his lips in anticipation, he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower, unashamedly naked. He smiled wolfishly when Primrose squeaked and averted her eyes at seeing him in all his splendidness. 

After he had dried off and wrapped the towel around his hips, Thomas left the bathroom to find clean clothes. Primrose, meanwhile, attempted to shake the image of Thomas’s very naked body out of her head. Pain pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked at the foot she’d been scrubbing, seeing more blood on cloth and realizing she’d scrubbed too hard in her distractions. Primrose was so deep in concentration of trying to clean her feet without damaging them further, she never noticed Thomas re-enter the bathroom. 

“Are you finished?” he asked, making her jump in surprise, dropping the cloth and bumping her feet against the wall of the tub. Primrose kept her eyes locked on the dirty water surrounding her, strictly avoiding looking at Thomas, just in case he was still indecent. 

“I asked, are you...” but Thomas stopped his questioning when he looked at her. With a sigh, he made his way over to the tub. “I told you to wash. What have you been doing?” he snapped.

“I was washing my feet,” Primrose snarled with indignation.

With a huff, Thomas sat on the tiled surface around the tub, behind Primrose. He pulled Primrose back towards him. She had gotten far more dirty in her attempt to flee than he had in looking for her. Wetting another cloth, Thomas massaged it carefully over her neck, shoulders and back. It took a considerable amount of willpower for Primrose not to melt under the soft, careful caress of Thomas’s firm but gentle hands. Even more willpower on Thomas’s part not to give in to the temptations of letting his hands explore further. 

Once Thomas had decide Primrose was clean, he laid the cloth he was using over the edge of the tub, then slid his hands under her arms, grabbing her and pulling her out of the water to sit in front of him on the edge. Without the obscuring effects of the water surrounding her, Primrose immediately wrapped her arms around herself, both in an effort to cover herself, and to warm herself. Thomas reached over and grabbed a towel from it’s resting place in a basket on the floor next to the tub and wrapped it around Primrose’s shoulders. He methodically began drying her off, being mindful of her body and taking note of any abrasions he came across. After a short time, he left his spot behind her and moved to stand beside the tub, next to her. She had squeezed her eyes shut when she’d felt him move, causing him to chuckle quietly at her. 

“I am dressed, darling,” Thomas said, quietly. “Open your eyes.”

Primrose cracked one eye open, just in case, before opening both eyes and staring up at Thomas. He was, indeed, dressed in a grey polo shirt and black trousers. He continued to dry her, kneeling down once he reached her legs. She tried to jerk away when he pat the towel against her thighs, but he stopped her with one very serious look. After drying her feet, carefully, he handed the towel to her.

“I’m going to get the first aide kit,” Thomas explained. “Take off the bra and panties.” 

Primrose grumbled under her breath as she wrapped the towel around herself. Once she was sure it wouldn’t slip off, and Thomas had his back to her retrieving the supplies he’d set out earlier, she shimmied out of her panties and bra. She was setting them off to the side when she saw Thomas take the first aide supplied from the bathroom into the main room. She heard him set the supplies on one of the tables, then heard him rustling around in the closet before he returned to stand in front of her. 

“Put this on,” he instructed, holding out a thigh length, soft pink, satin dressing robe. Primrose eyed it suspiciously, trying to determine why someone like Thomas would have such a thing just hanging in his closet. “A proper host would ensure his guests are comfortable.” It was like he could read her mind. “I had Robert pick it up ages ago, when I had thought to bring a woman here for a weekend. We never made it here, so it’s never been worn. It’s yours now. In fact, this is the only clothing you will be wearing for the next few days.” 

Primrose looked up at him sharply. “What?”

Thomas draped the robe over Primrose’s shoulders, loosely wrapping it around her torso while simultaneously pulling at the towel around her chest. With a flick of his wrist and a respectable amount of expertise, Thomas was able to pull the towel away from Primrose’s body without exposing her, completely. Primrose gasped at the subtle sensation of his fingers ghosting over her skin as he freed her from the towel. She grabbed the sides of the robe, pulling them closed around her. She looked down at the soft material, tying the sash and praying it would keep her shrouded. Just as she was twisting the sash into a knot, Thomas lifted her off the tub’s edge, into his arms, causing her to squeak in surprise. He carried her out into the master suite and set her on the bed.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, picking up a tray from the bedside table. She was resting with her back against the headboard and her legs out in front of her, her feet on a towel Thomas had laid on the sheets. He smirked watching her fidget with the hem of the robe, trying to pull it down to cover more of her thigh. Thomas set the tray on the bed on the other side of her feet while he sat down at the edge next to them. He gingerly grabbed her left ankle, pulling her leg off the bed so he could look at the bottom of her foot better. As he maneuvered her leg and foot, Primrose became acutely aware that she wasn’t wearing any panties anymore and the way he was holding her leg up left her feeling exposed. She tried to shift on the bed in an attempt to hide everything from his keen eyes, but was stopped when she felt a strong, painful pressure against the sole of her foot. Her eyes snapped up from her lap to find Thomas’s stern eyes looking at her with menace. 

“I told you not to move.” His voice was laced with a mixture of anger and a hunger she couldn’t decipher. It was clear by the look in his eyes that he knew what he was doing. She was paying for her disobedience in vulnerability.

Glowing red, Primrose bit her lip and attempted to breathe through her embarrassment. Thomas returned his perceptive blue eyes back to the foot cradled in his left hand. With his right hand, he grabbed the tweezers.

“There is some debris in a few of these cuts I need to take out before they become infected,” Thomas explained. “Now, I do have some topical anesthetic cream that would numb the pain pain of me digging around and cleaning out the cuts. But I have absolutely no intention of using it. You did this to yourself and you will suffer the consequences. I don’t care if you scream, just don’t move.”

It was more than painful, it was excruciating. Thomas was not deliberately trying to hurt her, but he wasn’t avoiding it either. On her left foot, Primrose had sustained two fairly deep lacerations, along with numerous tiny cuts and scratches. Thomas spent several minutes cleaning tiny pieces of dirt and sticks from the cuts, trying to be thorough. The first couple of passes with the tweezers, Primrose managed to keep herself from yelping and pulling away, but as Thomas’s attention became more focused on the larger cuts and the deeply embedded debris, her resolve began to dissolve. At one point Thomas had dug the tweezers into her foot so forcefully, trying to pull out a deep sliver, that her body just reacted and her foot jerked away from him. Thomas’s eyes snapped up angrily, a snarl curling his lips, but Primrose wasn’t looking at him. Her face was scrunched up in pain, tears streaking down her cheeks from closed eyes, and both hands clasped over her mouth in an effort to muffle her shrieks. Realizing it was an involuntary reaction, Thomas just grabbed her foot back and continued his work. The second foot was just as bad, and Thomas was sure at one point Primrose was about to blackout, so he showed her the smallest amount of mercy and stopped his excavations to let her catch her breath. 

It was thirty minutes later when Thomas set the tweezers down and left her feet to bleed on the towel. Primrose was a sobbing mess at the head of the bed. Thomas reminded himself she’d injured herself, and this was part of her punishment for trying to escape, but he wanted very badly to pull the wounded woman onto his lap and comfort her. But he kept himself seated at the foot of the bed. While Primrose was distracted with trying to calm herself, Thomas went about opening the sterilized gauze packets. 

“Primrose,” he said, bringing her attention back to him. “This is an antibacterial ointment.” He was holding a small tube for her to see. “It is not going to feel good when I put it on. But afterwards, I’ll bandage you up and this will be done. Again, do not move.”

Primrose nodded her head shakily and clutched at the bedding under her, readying herself for the next assault.

Ten minutes later, Thomas was blessedly done and her feet were bandaged. Thomas left the bed to clean up and put the supplies away, and as he did, Primrose took a moment to compose herself. In her attempts to keep still, the robe she had been wearing had ridden up her thighs and fallen from her shoulders, exposing more skin than she was comfortable with. She quickly pulled and straightened the robe, hoping Thomas hadn’t noticed her state of undress. 

When Thomas returned to the bed, he had a glass of water for Primrose. Hesitantly, she accepted the glass and took a few drinks.

“I’ll send for my physician to visit tomorrow, to ensure there will be no permanent damage to your feet,” Thomas explained. He took the glass away and set it on the nightstand before sitting on the bed next to her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. “You should not have tried to leave, darling,” he growled. “But I suppose your injuries are a good start towards punishment for such disobedience. The other part is your wardrobe, or rather, lack thereof, as well as not being allowed out of this room for any reason, until I see fit. What you are wearing, that pretty little robe, is all you will be wearing for the next few days.”

“What about underwear?” Primrose ventured, hesitantly.

Thomas smiled wolfishly. “The robe is your only piece of clothing. You will get underwear, and other bits of clothing, back when you’ve proven you can be a good girl and do as you’re told.” Thomas trailed the back of his fingers down Primrose’s satin clad arm. “You’re feet are pretty badly injured, darling, so I would advise against trying to leave this bed without my help. Understand?”

Primrose was speechless. This was worse than she could have imagined any punishment from him being. Completely dependent on him due to her own recklessness. Vulnerable and at his mercy, just as he’d always wanted. She was stuck. And it was all her fault. 

“I asked you a question, Primrose,” Thomas said in a low, authoritative tone, leaning close to the woman lying on his bed.

Startled, Primrose looked into Thomas’s eyes, seeing victory and possessiveness flashing through the fierce blue eyes staring back at her. Angry, frightened and hurt, Primrose could only nod, trying to keep the tears welling up in her eyes from spilling over.

“Now, for the next order of business,” Thomas started, leaning back. “Who is Ian O’Shea?”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before I saw the Jaguar commercial's with the beautiful Tom Hiddleston. But I was stuck in limbo for a very long time. Once I saw the commercials, the characters took on a whole new life. I renamed them so I could keep track of which actors would play which characters. In the initial draft, I hadn't envisioned any specific actor for the different parts. Maybe that was why I got stuck... Hope you enjoy.


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